


Not a Monster

by Mjazilem



Series: Autistic Pyro [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Ableist Language, Abuse, Autistic Character, Child Abuse, Growing Up, Mutant Powers, Runaway, X-men to come, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, autistic headcanon, autistic pyro, origins story, possible triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 50,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3560084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mjazilem/pseuds/Mjazilem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an origins story for Pyro (based on Movie John) it starts when he's four years old and will tell the story of a couple foster homes and his time as a runaway then about his experiences at Xavier's. This is a work in progress chapters will be added edits might be made. ~Now with emerging Mutation, Running away, life on the streets, Mutant Haters, The Shark Lighter, X-Men to the Rescue, and meeting Kitty and Bobby~ (The X-Men show up in chapter 17)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You will recognize the snarky angry Pyro from the X-men movies in this fic! 
> 
> I've just given a reason to some of Pyro's behaviors. That reason is autism. In this story Pyro is Autistic, this was inspired by movie verse Pyro portrayed by Aaron Stanford and by a number of fanfictions that I've read that give Pyro some very autistic traits. 
> 
> Pyro in this is Autistic and eventually has a co-morbid conditions: PTSD and Social Anxiety. He has sensory sensitivities, auditory processing difficulties, he has delayed speech, echolalia, he stims and flaps has meltdowns and shutdowns, social exhaustion and executive function problem. 
> 
> This is an autistic character by an Autistic author. I have drawn on my own experiences with autism and the experiences that others have shared with me to try and create a well round fleshed out character. 
> 
> For this story even though the movie verse is technically like years ago the most up to date information on Autism is being used when it's finally explained to John in the later chapters. 
> 
> when reading this story " " quotes means speech ' ' quotes means thought
> 
> Pyro can manipulate fire but not create it like in the movies
> 
> St John is pronounced "Sin Gin" not "Saint John"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The un-adoptable St John

“I see St John's back.” The social worker put her briefcase down in the office of the state boy's home Dean. 

“Did you have any doubt?” The man looked up from the paper he was reading and gave her a look, they both knew that St John Allerdyce was going to be back. He'd been at the home since he was about ten months old and every time there was a hint that he might be adopted it just didn't work out. 

He was four now and he'd been to a dozen homes in his few years and he was always returned. The social worker looked over his file for the hundredth time. “Is there anything I can do to help him?” 

“I don't think there's anything you can do that hasn't already been tried on the boy. He's just not adoption material. You know as well as I do some kids just aren't.”

“But what if I try...”

“Look don't beat yourself up about him, he won't talk, doesn't hardly respond to his name, spends most days spinning the wheels on that toy car he has and the parents to be always complain when they return him that he won't connect with them.”

“Maybe we just haven't found the right parents.”

“You're still new to this job and I admire your tenacity but it looks like Johnny boy is just one of those kids that's gonna stay in the system till he's eighteen and we hand him his walking papers or have him institutionalize.” The dean had seen it before. Every once in a while a kid came through his ward that was just tuned out. Mostly they just bided their time and unless they beat their head on the wall or bit the other kids he just let them ride it out and then sent them on their way. 

“I'd like to speak with him.” 

“Knock yourself out kid just don't expect much.” 

She found him in the common area sitting away from the other boys. The other boys were playing with blocks and board games talking in their free time. St John was sitting at a table by himself with nothing but the toy car the Dean had mentioned. He sat repetitively flicking the wheels of small die cast thing just like she had seen him do a month ago. 

“Hi St John” She greeted him as she sat down. He didn't look at her or say hello but he did tilt his head towards her as he stayed focused on what he was doing. She suppose that slight acknowledgement was something. 

That was about as much as she'd ever seen him do in response to her. She'd seen him grunt at the other boys before when they were pestering him. 

She wished she could get him to talk to her so she could really know what was going on inside his head. 

She was frustrated that he wouldn't talk. She thought maybe it was relate to a trauma he'd had a small child. She was no psychologist but she knew that sort of thing happened. 

She knew before he'd been brought under state custody whoever was caring for him had done something to him. According to his file he had scars from what appear to be cigarette burns on his legs and he'd been photographed, when social services had first been put on his case, with bruises on his back and extremities. She cringed thinking about someone doing that to a child, a baby non the less. 

“Did I tell you last time I like the flames on your car? I bet they help it go really fast.” She tried to make small talk about something she thought he might be interested in but like the parents to be always seemed to say he was impossible to connect with. 

They knew it wasn't a hearing problem. They had had him tested, more than once in fact just to be sure. He was just uninterested. 

“I'm sorry to see you back here St John. I'd really like to help you out and get you adopted but I need your help to do it. Will you help me?” She knew his window for opportunity was really closing fast, most people wanted to adopt babies and he wasn't a baby any more, really once he started school next year there would be very little hope she felt. 

He didn't respond to her question. “Look we've talked about this before. If you want people to like you and keep you you need to smile at them. You don't have to talk to them you just need to acknowledge them and make them feel like you want to be there and you have got to stop with the wheels.” She reached her hand out and put it over his stopping the incessant motion of flicking and spinning. 

Suddenly St John was all action in a way she'd never seen before. He jerked away for her touch and pushed back from the table with a shout. 

The commotion brought all eyes to them and everyone stared waiting to see what the boy would do next. 

He put his feet up in the chair, held the toy car close spinning the wheels and rocking. She swore he was glaring in her direction and she hit her breaking point. Embarrassed by the scene he'd caused and tired of getting no where she decided maybe the Dean was right at least with this boy. 

She leaned close and spoke low. “I don't know if you can understand me but I just want you to know I've never met a child like you and I hope I never do again you ungrateful little monster.” She picked up her things and walked out. 

He heard and he knew. It wasn't the first time someone had called him a monster. 

St John was assigned a new case worker and that one got fed up just as quickly. Soon they stopped trying to find adoptive parents for him and just tried to get him into foster care.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A foster home, going to school, the hopeless case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> St John is Pronounced "Sin Gin"

Caregivers and teacher had called him slow and said he'd probably never learn much. The past couple of years he'd been conditioned to respond when someone called his name and do what they told him whether it was sit down and eat, go to bed, or stop doing whatever it was he was doing. He was finally enrolled in kindergarden by the time his sixth birthday rolled around.

He'd found that it was better to comply then to get hit, yelled at, or physically forced to do something. So he did what he was told especially around his heavy handed foster father Mr. Johnson. 

There were five kids in this foster home and the Johnsons were strict. The social workers had decided it would be the perfect environment for St John and they were all patting themselves on the back now that he'd been approved to join the kindergarden at the public school. 

It was a break through they said. It was a miracle said others. St John didn't see what all the fuss was about. 

He wasn't very excited. School meant going somewhere he didn't know and being around new people. 

Mrs. Johnson tried to get him excited and made a big deal out of taking him to the store and dragging him through the aisles. He hated going to the store and whimpered as they went in. She told him to quiet down and he did but there were so many people and the lights hurt his eyes that he couldn't help but get upset. 

He was scolded for being grumpy, after all she was trying to do something nice for him, getting him new things for school. She made him try on pants and shirts and he pulled and tugged at the collars and the uncomfortable seems. 

She told him to pick out a lunch box which seemed like it would be fun to him, they came in lots of interesting colors and some had characters on them. But when he saw one he like that was red and black there were people in front of it and people crowding the shelf and he didn't know what to do or how to get to it or how to express what he wanted. 

Mrs. Johnson took his hesitation and frustration as a sign of simpleness in the boy that she'd come to except. She grabbed the first lunch box she could reach and told him to come on and then yelled at him when he stomped out of the aisle. 

When he arrived at the class on the first day of school with his hand me down book bag and a green lunch box he hated he didn't know what to expect. 

The teacher was an older woman who had been told he was coming. She greeted him as he walked in. “You must be Saint John. My name is Mrs. Short can you remember that?” She spoke at him very slow and deliberately. He didn't like how she mispronounced his name. “Follow me son.” She had him put his things in a cubby and then take a seat at a big round table with five other students. 

“Students this is Saint John he's joining our class, he's a little slow be nice to him.” St John didn't like the way she talk about him like he wasn't there. Adults always seemed to do that. He was right here, he could hear what they were saying and understand it, he felt like they didn't think he could. 

“St John.” He spoke softy as she started to walk away. He didn't speak much he'd started saying a few yeses and nos when asked but he really wanted to correct this teacher, she shouldn't say his name wrong like that. 

She turned and looked at him surprised “what did you say dear?”

“St John” he repeated and she craned her head and twisted her face. 

“One more time honey.” He was starting to get angry and he gripped pencil tight in his fist, they'd taken away his toy car before he'd gotten here. 

“St John” He raised his voice slightly and Mrs. Short got a concerned look on her face. 

“I'm sorry Dear I don't know what you're trying to say, maybe if you looked at me when you said it.” He was frustrated and angry and started rocking in his chair. 

“Now Dear it was very good of you to try, don't get upset.” She spoke very sweetly to him, too sweetly as far as he was concerned. “If you don't stop that rocking and settle down I'm going to have to send you to the principal's office.” 

He knew that the principal's office was a bad thing one of the older children at the Johnson's house had taken it upon themselves to explain that. So he gripped his pencil, bit his lip and forced himself to stop rocking. 

Looking around as the teacher walked away he saw the fearful expressions of his classmates and he didn't like it. He slumped down in his chair and focused on the geometric pattern of the tiled floor following the diamonds with his eyes as they went from large to small and back again. 

The teacher kept trying to interact with him the rest of the day. She gave him worksheets and coloring sheet. She had him sit with the other students as she read a story and paired him up with another student at playtime. 

But St John didn't do anything the way the other students did, he didn't try the worksheet even after she explained it a few times, he was more interested in rolling the crayons then coloring with them. He sat at story time but he wouldn't sit still and he kept looking at the other children instead of the illustration from the book that Mrs. Short was showing. At playtime instead of playing with the other children, building with the blocks or playing pretend he found the play phone and kept spinning the rotary dial. 

At the end of the day the compassionate Mrs. Short sent a note home with her new student that told his foster parents that he had had a good day but that she felt she'd at least need an assistant if he he was going to stay in her class and that they might consider putting him into the special ed program. 

John had had an alright day at school, it hadn't been terrible but the night after school might be described that way. He'd been tired and just wanted his car and something to eat. Mr. Johnson had insisted that John answer questions about his first day and then help with setting the table for dinner. When St John didn't talk like Mr. Johnson thought he should and when he failed to get all the utensils on the table he was punished for being disrespectful and sent to bed without dinner. 

Mrs. Johnson kept his car in her room where he was forbidden to go. 

He didn't stay with the Johnson much longer. They decided they had too many children to 'properly' handle a 'difficult' one like St John Allerdyce. So he wen back and was bounced from the boy's home to other foster homes through following five years and the older he got the more he stayed at the boy's home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last chance at a home

St John's reputation proceeded him. He was known as a stubborn, frustrated boy with anger issues after years of being misunderstood and pushed around. 

He had tried to stand up for himself a little bit over the years. It rarely ended with him getting a positive outcome, he was either punished or made fun of. 

He still had trouble articulating what his needs and wants were to people which made him appear like a troublemaker and people for the most part took one look at him lost their patience. 

He wasn't stupid not by any stretch of the imagination but most people couldn't see that through his resistance to eye contact, disinterest in conversation, and plan dislike of being touched to see that he was thinking and intelligent. 

People made a lot of assumptions about him. A popular one was that he was a hopeless case. 

Everyone was amazed when at eleven years old a foster family agreed to take him in. They were the Millers and they were a nice older couple who took in boys who needed extra attention. They had a foster child turn eighteen and move out and they were willing to take on the challenge that was St. John Allerdyce. 

St John went to live with them in the summer and they lived in the country. He had never seen so much land around a house before. There was lots of land and fields and trees and he found it much more exciting then he thought he would. 

He liked the idea of being able to run and jump around outside without people all around to watch. 

Mrs. Miller had baked an apple pie that was cooling in the kitchen when he'd arrived at the house. It was one of the nicest things he'd ever smelled. She welcomed him and instead of just rushing up to him and invading his personal space, like some foster parents would, she'd asked if she could hug him. St John liked that and said yes to her request, if only to avoid the consequences of saying no. It was a short hug and he didn't hate it. 

They gave him a bed in a room he was to share with two older boys. It was a nice room and the bed was more comfortable than the one he had at the boys home. 

He didn't have many belongings to put away in the drawers they said he could use. Just some clothes in a book bag, an old notebook he like to write little things that came to mind in and the little toy car with flames on the side he kept in his pocket. 

The two older boys were thirteen and fifteen and they were loud. They came barreling into the bedroom and stopped short when they saw St John sitting on the bed. 

“Hey you're the new boy ain't ya?” The taller one spoke. “I'm Tom and this is David. What's your name again?”

“St John.” 

“What did you say? What kind of name is that?” 

“Did you say Sin Gin?” Both boys laughed. St John just held the car in his pocket tight. 

“Hey Kid what are you looking at.” David asked.

St John hadn't really been looking at anything he'd just not been looking in their direction. “It's real weird you looking over at my stuff like that. You better not get any ideas, I don't like anyone messing with my stuff.” 

“I wasn't” 

“Sure you weren't, little state care boy like you, I bet you're trying to figure out what you can lift from us, don't you try anything. You'll regret it if you do.” St John knew Tom's threat was genuine. 

“I wasn't” St John states again though now that they made such a fuss about it he might have to do something just to see how they'd react.  
“Boys come down for dinner.” Mrs. Miller's voice carries up the staircase. Tom and David give St John one more look and then run down to the kitchen. St John takes his time going downstairs.

“There you are!” Mrs. Miller smiles warmly as St John joins them in the kitchen. “Have you settled in and washed up?” 

“Come have a seat St John.” Mr. Miller gestures to a chair next to him at the table. He pronounces St John's name pretty well but the snickers from the boys are grating. “John” St John says as he sits down. “What's that son?”

“Just call me John.” He states clearly while looking intensely towards David like he's never stared at anyone before. 

“If that's what you'd prefer John it is.” 

The Millers were a nice couple and John tried to be on his best behavior because even with Tom and David this home was better than the state run boy's home. The food at least was better Mrs. Miller made delicious pies and everything was fresh. 

He started fifth grade at a new school and found that it got easier for him as he went along.

Encouraged by the Millers he did the work he was given and started to get decent grades. His teachers started to actually acknowledge him instead of doing their best to avoid him. 

He didn't have any friends really, he didn't really talk to anyone on a daily basis. He could go a week in class without saying a word to anyone. It didn't bother him much. He had learned to read pretty well and he found he really liked books. Now he always had a book on him and his car in his pocket. 

He didn't dare take the car out of his pocket to spin the wheels unless he knew he was alone. He'd had too many people take it from him or use it against him. He was aware, people had made him aware that some of the things he did weren't normal. 

He just got urges that over took his body where he had to shake things out or it felt like the energy might make him explode. He like to do repetitive things like tapping his fingers and spin wheels and things. He used to not look at people a lot and now people got angry with him for looking at them too much, they said he stared at them. He also got angry a lot for what people said was no reason. He thought he had a reason, lots of good reasons for getting upset but apparently other people didn't agree. 

Mr. and Mrs. Miller had been very tolerant and understanding with him. They said they had experience with all kinds of boys and that he wasn't even the most difficult. Mrs. Miller asked every once in a while if he'd give her a hug, he didn't really like hugging and touching but it seemed to make her happy so he complied figuring as long as she was happy he'd be able to stay.

They gave him and the other boys a few chores to do and they insisted that he sit at the kitchen table to do his homework. They weren't as strict as some other families he'd lived with like the Johnsons and they let him have time to himself. He liked to walk around about side and sit under the trees. 

He was doing just that one Saturday afternoon in November. It was starting to get pretty cool Mrs. Miller said he could still go outside but he had to wear a sweatshirt. That's what he did and he found the hand me down sweatshirt that she gave him that was a couple sizes too big very comfortable and he liked having the sleeves pulled down over his hands and the hood up. 

He thought he was alone sitting outside under a tree with his hoodie on just spinning the wheels of his car and thinking about nothing and everything. 

“What ya doing twerp?” It was Tom and he was in a mood. After his months of being at the Millers Tom and David had never warmed up to him. They had taken a liking to tormenting him when Mr. and Mrs. Miller weren't around. John for his part hadn't really worked to make things better with the other boys in fact he much preferred revenge to peace. 

He'd hidden Tom's baseball glove and accidentally knocked David's toothbrush in the toilet. He'd made them late getting to school on days he knew they wanted to get to class and purposely undone chores that they'd done like scattering the leaves back around the main yard after they'd already been raked. 

He might not be as big as the other boys but that didn't mean he was going to let them totally get away with messing with him. 

The Miller's it turned out for the most part decided the shenanigans were just cases of 'boys being boys' and let the boys deal with their internal squabbles themselves. 

Today though John had let him guard down. He'd thought he was alone and that's why he felt comfortable bringing out his beloved car. He knew he'd made a mistake as soon as he heard Tom's voice. He tried to shove the car back in his pocket as Tom got closer but he wasn't fast enough. 

Tom was on him in a second ripping the car out of his hand. The bigger boy turned the car over in his hand and weighed it as John jumped at him to grab it. Tom smiled coldly, took a look at the desperate John and the car and then threw the toy into the woods. 

It was done in a flash, just like that it was gone. “no,no,no...” he looked with disbelief into the trees. 

He shook his head over and over again processing what had just happened. His car, the one thing he'd had so long it was a part of him was gone. He beat his fist against his hip where the car should have been in his pocket. How could he have been so careless, so stupid. 

Then he heard Tom laughing and John saw red. He turned on his tormenter and pushed the boy as hard as he could. Tom fell back. “What the hell.” 

John's eyes started to sting and he thought he might cry. 

“God, you need to calm down you little freak.” Tom looked up at him in disgust. 

“Nooo” John screamed at him. The only thing John knew to do now was to go into the woods. Maybe he could find it, maybe it wasn't gone for good. 

“What are you doing?” He could hear Tom behind him and he didn't care what he had to say. “Get back here. You'll never find it! It's going to be dark soon. Fine go in there and get lost see if I care you big baby. It's what you get for taking my Glove you weirdo.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discovering Fire

He was having no luck finding the car as he worked his way further and further into the woods. He kicked at the leaves and climbed over broken branches and tried his best to avoid the sharp briars but to no avail. 

On top of that it got colder as it got darker and now that he was in the woods he wasn't sure how to get out. He wasn't sure how long he was lost but he knew he was thankful when he saw the flashlights and heard Mr. Miller calling his name. John also knew he never wanted to be lost an unable to take care of himself again. 

“What were you thinking running into the woods like that John?” Mr. Miller asked seriously as he dragged the boy into the house. He wasn’t expecting an answer, this boy never said much. He was starting to wonder if there was much of a brain in the kid’s head. 

“I needed…” John actually started his reply but was cut off.

“What did you need? Did you truly need that toy? You needed it so badly that you ran off into the woods and got lost and made me come find you.” John was directed to a chair at the kitchen table and instructed to sit. 

He gripped the seat of the chair so tight his knuckles turned white. He didn’t understand why it was so hard to understand. Tom had thrown his car and he needed his car so he had to go look for it. 

“You’re nearly thirteen now. You are too old for silly toys like that. You’re going to stop this foolishness and let that thing go and because you ran off and had us worried you’re grounded and will have to do all of your and Tom’s chores for the next two weeks.” John got agitated at the injustice and started thumping his back against the chair. 

“But Tom…” 

“This isn’t about Tom. This is about your actions. Now go upstairs and get cleaned up. When you’re done come back down and see the Misses about some food.” John didn’t look at him he sat angrily fuming in the chair. First he’d lost his car now he’d have to do Tom’s work. How was that fair and all because he’d gone into the woods, he’d had to do that. He had to at least try to get his car back. 

“John go.” 

John huffed as he got off the chair and trudged up the stairs. He turned the water on in the shower to let it heat up before he got in and then ventured into the room he shared with the other boys. 

As he walked in they looked up at him from the books they were reading while seated on their beds. They looked menacing in the low light of the bedside lamps. 

They glared at him and he glared right back as he grabbed his night clothes and his towel. 

On his way out the door a book pegged him right between the shoulder blades “Twerp” Tom spat the word at him.

John turned around picked up the book and threw it at Tom’s face, it struck him in the cheek and he  
jumped up and punched John hard in the shoulder. 

The scuffle caught the attention of Mr. Miller who called up the stairs. “Don’t make me come up there boys.”

“Yeah, don’t make him come up here baby.” Tom hissed at him. 

“You better sleep with one eye open tonight baby or we’re gonna get you.” David added from where he sat on him bed. 

John back out of the room and ran to the bathroom locking the door behind him.

He rubbed his sore shoulder, scrubbed his dirty hands and let the water run as he stood under the spray.  
He cried and shook and even let a whimper or two slip his lips until there was a banging on the door that let him know he’d exceeded his time with the hot water. 

When he got out to dry off his hands stung from all the scraps and splinters he’d gotten in the woods and his palms and fingers were bright red. Looking down at his empty hands and scrapped hands reminded him once more of what had happened and he flapped them hard as all the emotions he’d felt the fear and frustration rushed over him like a wave. He rode out the torrent and was left utterly exhausted and somehow cold even though warm steam still hung in the air. 

He dressed and then padded downstairs in his bare feet and his pajamas and was greeted by the smiling face of Mrs. Miller. “Will you give me a hug?” She asked and he nodded letting her wrap her arms around him. He’d come to not mind her hugs most of the time, they certainly were warm. 

He just didn’t know what to do with his arms during them so he left them at his side, sometimes he patted her on the back because that seemed like something he could do. She seemed to be hugging him extra tight and a bit longer than he would have liked tonight. 

“You had us worried sick.” She said as she squeezed him and he rolled his eyes. He was obviously back there was no need for her to make a scene. “Come and have something to eat before you go to bed.” 

He moved over to the table, he avoided sitting in the seat he’d sat in earlier while Mr. Miller was scolding him. A bowl and cheerios were placed in front of him with some mike and juice. Cereal for dinner was alright by him. He liked cereal.

As he ate he heard an odd noise coming from the sitting room. Mrs. Miller stood in the kitchen doorway and looked approvingly out at something. “Finally got it going.” She said and John could hear Mr. Miller’s reply “Yep it’s going good now.” 

John had no idea what they were talking about and he was certainly curious. He took a big mouthful of cheerios and then got up from the table to see what was happening in the sitting room.

He peaked around behind Mrs. Miller and nearly choked. There was a fire in the house. 

He coughed and sputtered and swallowed hard. The Millers looked at him unsure what was wrong with him, wondering if he was having some sort of fit. He looked back at them like they’d sprouted second heads till finally he pointed and practically shouted. “Fire!”

Then their worried looks broke and suddenly they were laughing at him. “OH oh dear.” Mrs. Miller exclaimed “Haven’t you ever been anywhere where they used a fireplace for heat?” 

“Come here boy.” Mr. Miller instructed. John was hesitant. “Come here it’s perfectly safe and contained to the fireplace.” Mr. Miller put his hand on John’s shoulder which he really didn’t care for but he didn’t want to say anything or squirm away because he didn’t know how Mr. Miller would react.

He was taken close to the fire. He’d never really seen a fire before except on TV and maybe if you counted birthday candle flames.

He was close enough to feel the continuous heat it put off. Hear it make all kinds of snapping, hissing and popping. He watched as it leaped from under one log and then another. How a large steady flame stayed constant towards the back and how it worked its way down a piece of kindling consuming it. It seemed alive and beautiful. He found it to be a comforting presence he’s never known before.

He took another step towards the fireplace.

“Whoa there fella.” Mr. Miler’s hand was on his chest stopping him in his tracks. He looked up and gave the man an exasperated look. “The fire is not for you to get close to, it’s not something to play with.”

John took a step back. “Why don’t you got ahead and get up to bed, it’s past that time anyway.” Mr. Miller suggested. 

John was tired but he didn’t want to go up to the room because of the boys and because he wanted to watch the fire, it was the most interesting thing he’s seen in well, ever.

“You look tired John go on up and get some sleep.” Mrs. Miller coaxed as she settled in on the couch with a blanket and a book. 

John started on his trek to the bedroom moving slow and looking over his shoulder the whole time. Would he ever get to see a fire like that again? He didn’t know. As he climbed the stairs he could hear the Millers and he knew they were talking about him. “The boy is strange. I mean stranger than the other boys we’ve had. I just don’t know what’s going on in his head…” 

John hummed the rest of the way up the stairs trying to drowned out the voices he didn’t want to hear anymore. 

When he got to the bedroom the other boys were asleep and John breathed a sigh of relief they usually didn’t bother to wake up in the middle of the night to ‘get him’ still he pulled his blanket up over his head and pressed his back against the wall hoping that that would provide him some level of protect if they did decide he was worth getting. 

In the morning Tom got in a couple of hits before they were ushered off to school. John was sore the rest of the day, the bruise on his should from Tom turned purple. But he was thrilled to find when they got home that there was a fire in the fireplace and after he’d racked the yard, done his homework, set the table, washed the dishes, taken out the trash, and fed the cats he was allowed to sit in the sitting room with the fire. 

It was a different fire, it moved a little differently and smelled a little different but it was just as interesting, active and warm. John wondered what made the difference in the two fires. He wondered if the Millers knew and if he asked if they would tell him about it. 

Maybe he could find it in a book, he was given time at the school library during the week maybe he could find some information there. 

For now though he was content to watch it and be near it.

There were lots of fires in the fireplace that month and John studied them all. Mr. and Mrs. Miller didn’t know what to make of his interest. Boys of course usually liked fire but they grew bored with it when they weren’t allowed to poke at it or burn anything. John was content to sit and watch the fires or sit near them and write or read. 

They supposed at least he was out of trouble and was showing an interest in something. 

Mr. Miller didn’t want John to get too close to the fire or touch any of the fireplace tools. He said John was too young and it was too dangerous but after a couple of weeks he let John help him put a log on the fire and John was ecstatic to see the sparks and embers fly up as the new piece of wood was dropped on top.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All kinds of trouble at the foster home

John liked to sit by the fire. It created a small safe zone for him. There was no horsing around or rough housing by the fire so the older boys don't mess with him while he sits in front of it. He feels so safe near the fire that he feels comfortable bringing out the little notebook he likes to write things down in. 

“Look at you being all studious.” Mrs. Miller takes notice of him writing and her comments make him feel self conscious. He really just wants to be left alone with his thoughts and the fire. 

The boys came around and tried to see what hew as doing but he wouldn't let them and when they tried to make a grab for his note book John reached for his new fidget a supply of rubber bands in his pocket. He had one of them quickly strung around his fingers and ready to strike like a flash. The boys backed down they'd already experienced how accurate John could be with a rubber band and they didn't want any part of it. 

John liked that they backed off because he finally intimidated them for a change. 

It was a cold night in Early december that John first noticed while staring into the fire and humming a tune that the fire seemed to dance to his song. It seemed to flare slightly with his high notes and dim with his low notes. He thought perhaps it was his eyes playing tricks on him or maybe just his imagination. 

The next night he sat transfixed by the flames and wondering if they truly had been dancing. Tonight he sat on the floor close to the fire and focused on one ember and in his mind told it to light. He knew it was silly and when nothing happened he was disappointed but not surprised. As he laughed at himself that same ember flared to life, its flame suddenly shooting up. 

John jumped and scooted away from the fire and what had to be a very well time coincidence. 

“Did you get hit by an ember?” Mr. Miller asked. “Serves you right for sitting so close.”

John looked at the man and back to the fire in shock and disbelief. 

The next morning a clumsy John who'd not been able to sleep with thoughts of embers on his mind all might had accidentally spilled orange juice onto the math homework tom had been doing at the breakfast table.

Tom had exploded screaming at John and slamming his books. Mr. Miller had to drag the older boy outside to calm him down. John stood frozen to his spot shocked and frightened by the outburst. Mrs. Miller and David rushed all around him trying to clean things up John wrapped his arms around himself and bounced on the balls of his feet not hearing anything anyone was trying to say to him. 

He tried to snap out of it but he was upset and it had been an accident and he wanted to crawl under the table and stay there. He couldn't process the whirl of activity around him and only got focused enough to try and move when Mrs. Miller took him by the shoulders, shook him and ordered him to put his coat on. 

All the boys were dropped off at school. John felt like he was walking through a tunnel all the students and cars zipping around him. Then on the way into school David 'accidentally' tripped and pushed/knocked John down on the sidewalk. John skinned up his hands and had to go to the school nurse to get them bandaged. 

Tom seemed to be angry all the time now. John had never gotten along with the other boys at the Millers but now he couldn't even be in the house without being afraid that Tom would explode. He didn't know why it was happening he heard Mrs. Miller talking about puberty and Mr. Miller mention anger issues.

John stayed huddled up by the fire most nights until after the other boys had gone to bed.

His clothing all started to smell like wood smoke even when he was at school. He liked the smell and found it comforting.

He needed all the comfort he could get right now because he didn't find it at home or at school. Sometimes he really didn't like himself. He knew that people thought he was different then other kids, thought he was purposefully difficult. He really didn't know what made him that way. Most of the time it didn't bother him very much but there were times when being different was just terrible. 

Two weeks after Tom had exploded and John had been living in more fear than usual, He'd seen Tom in the school hallway talking with some girls. He hadn't said anything to Tom it wasn't really in his nature and he knew that Tom wouldn't want him to say anything to him anyway. But as he walked by on his way to the cafeteria he could hear the girls with Tom talking about him. 

“That kid lives with you doesn't he.” “I heard he's weird or slow or something.” “Is he related to you Tom?” “Does he have something contagious?” “What makes him so weird?”

On the way home from school Tom was fuming and John knew he was just waiting for the right moment to pound John for existing. 

John hurried into the house and took his usual spot by the fire. The only issue he could see was that the Millers were outside doing work. 

Tom stalked into the sitting room John knew he was now the target of Tom's rage and that he was trapped. “You just had to be there didn't you?” David was following close behind. “Of course you little parasite you just have to ruin things for me don't you?”

John made himself as small as he could bringing his legs up to his chest and tucking his knees up under his chin.

“Don't you have anything to say?” Tom got closer and John didn't look at him. Though he knew staring at Tom might be more intimidating, The expression on Tom face and intensity of his eyes was too much for John. John looked instead towards a possible escape route, hoping disparately to think of someway out of this situation. 

“Look at me!” Tom grabbed him by the chin and forced John to face him. John jerked back and away. 

“Is that how you're going to be?” Tom grabbed John by the arm and pulled him up. John struggled but Tom was too strong for him and he easily took the smaller boy under one arm and wrenched John's right arm out.

Then forced it over the fire.

John screamed and kicked but Tom held tight.

David finally disagreed with Tom for once. “Tom maybe don't do this.”

“Why? The kid deserves what he gets. Little freak needs to know he's not normal.”

“Well yeah sure but we could get into a lot of trouble for this.”

“This kid doesn't say more than two words at a time and everyone will think that anything that happens is because this space case was too close to the fire and got himself burned. Isn't that right Johnny?”

The flames licked up at John's arm as Tom forced him to hold it out into the fireplace. John had tears streaming down his face. His arm was burning and no amount of fighting seemed to be enough to make Tom stop the torture. 

Finally all the fear and anger welled up inside John and he screamed with all the air in his lungs “STOP!”

And with that word the flames were gone.

Tom and David jumped back from the fireplace in shock. Tom dropped John in the process.

John lay on the floor crying and holding his burnt forearm close to his chest.

“What the hell was that?” Tom yelled angrily. 

John didn't have an answer and even if he was going to offer one before he could the Millers returned. Mr. Miller walked into the sitting room with his arms full of wood for the fire.

“did the fire go out? You boys were suppose to tell me before it died completely so we didn't have to start all over.” he scolded.

“He did it.” Tom and David pointed to John on the floor where Mr. Miller hadn't noticed him yet and then they ran off. 

“God John what did you do?” 

Mr. Miller put the wood down and went to take a look at the boy sniffling on the floor. He saw that John was cradling his arm and he pulled it away from the boy to get a better look. He wasn't surprised to find the burn. “That's what you get for playing with fire.” 

John yanked his arm back from the man angrily and received a swift smack across the face for his action. “I've had about enough of you boy.” 

John was stunned and reached a hand up to hold his cheek. 

Mr. Miller pulled the boy up off the floor and John followed him without a fight.

He was sat down in the kitchen at the table and Mr. Miller went and got his wife.

Mrs. Miller took one look at the burn and scolded John for playing with the fire.

She put burn cream on his arm and bandaged it. She told him it would probably blister and scar before it healed. John cringed at the thought and couldn't believe that the fire would have hurt him like this. The dull ache overpowering his thoughts and overloading his senses. Then he remembered it was Tom who did it. It was Tom who hurt him.

Mrs. Miller put her first aid kit away and as she had so many times before she asked John for a hug. 

He didn't want to be touched at the moment he was in pain and upset and didn't want to be touched too. When he said no and refused her kind demeanor shifted. 

As he stood in the Kitchen unsure what to do next John could tell she wasn't happy with his answer and that she wasn't going to let him be. 

“I think you need a hug they're the the best medicine.” John rocked back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels and stared in her direction. 

“Come here.” She said in a tone he couldn't quite place, it was somewhere between kind and menacing happy and furious and he didn't like it. He didn't move form his spot so she moved towards him.

“You know I've had many troubled boys come through this home and I've found that what so many of them needed was a hug.” She put her arms around him even as he leaned away from her. 

“Just relax, this is how people show they care.” She explained to the hopeless boy and squeezed him tight as he tensed. “Just put your arms around me and squeeze you'll feel better.” 

John had said 'no' he didn't want the hug, he didn't like to hug, he grew frustrated and he squirmed in her arms. She hugged him tighter so to end it he pushed away from her.

As he pushed back from her she grabbed for him. 

“I'm just trying to help you can't you see?” in her grab for him she hit his burned forearm. 

He let out a cry and knocked over a chair as he jumped back. The chair fell at Mrs. Miller.

That was all that Mr. Miller saw when he came into the kitchen to see what the commotion was.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's a Monster

He reacted instantly to what he perceived as a threat to his wife grabbing John by the collar and hauling him into the sitting room. “What do you think you're doing you ungrateful Bastard?” Mr. Miller held him up by the collar of his t-shirt. John's eyes were wide in shock and jumped back and forth as he tried to find words to save himself. 

“We've done everything for you. Clothed and fed you, cared for you after you did foolish things.” Mr. Miller punctuated what he said by shaking the boy. Tears welled in John's eyes as he grabbed at Mr. Miller's hands that now had him practically lifted off the floor.

“Didn't mean... mean to... accident” John grasped out the best he could. 

Mrs. Miller stood upset in the doorway between the kitchen and the sitting room. The older boys were now on the staircase snickering at him.

John was scared and angry and everyone's emotions were swirling around him. He couldn't think. He didn't want to feel. He just wanted them all to go away and leave him alone. 

Mr. Miller shook him by the collar sharply again and John turned away from the man holding him. John's eyes fell on the fireplace. The fire was back and he saw it jumping and popping and glowing. He smiled at the memory of the comfort it had been to him. 

“What are you smiling for you simpleton?” Mr. Miller shouted at him. 

John cringed away but answered the question simply and truthfully. He was smiling at the “Fire.”

It all happened so fast John didn't know what was going on. He saw the fire flare up at his word and some of the flames jumped up to the mantel above the fireplace. 

Mr. Miller dropped him and started scrabbling “What the hell was that?” 

John was scared as Mr. and Mrs. Miller rushed past him and started shouting at the boys to get water. Mr. Miller started beating at the flames on the mantle with a blanket.

Tom and David pushed past John knocking him sideways. He hit the ground hard and landed with his hand out stretched to the fire. He let out an angry scream at the boys and suddenly the fire jumped past the fireplace on a path across the floor straight for his hand.

Mrs. Miller stomped at the fire on the floor. “Is this a gas leak, do we need to get out?” 

the boys ran in with a bucket of water, making no effort to avoid the injured boy on the floor in their hast. They were about to throw their buckets onto the fire when Mr. and Mrs. Miller's attention was directed away from the fire. Tom and David turned to see John on his knees holding a flame. 

John looked in wonder as the flame that he thought was going to burn him jumped and floated above his palm. He could feel it's heat but it didn't hurt like it had when Tom had held his arm the flame. He wondered how this was possible.

He looked up at the others. Their faces did not match how he felt, he was excited and they didn't look excited by what was happening. 

“Oh Lord protect us from this devil. This monster...” Mrs. Miller cried out. 

“Mutant.” Tom spat out the word. “The freak is a Mutant.” John had heard the word before but didn't know what it meant. 

“Did you do this?” Mr. Miller looked furious at him. John shook his head. “You, you did this.” The fire was forgotten as the Man rushed towards John. John coward but held onto his flame. 

Mr. Miller reached for him and John screamed. The flames burst from his hands and engulfed Mr. Miller. The man hollered and fell back as he shirt burned the flames in the fireplace leap up once again reaching out towards John coming in large streams as he blink in shock and stood from his place on the floor. 

Mr. Miller was rolling on the floor to put out the flames his wife was trying to smother the flames in a blanket. 

John was standing holding pillars of flames in his hands completely mesmerized by them. 

Tom who had been frozen in his spot terrified with along with David suddenly acted. He threw his bucket of water at John. It stunned John and dowsed his flames. Then with a malicious smile on his face he swung the bucket at John's head, it connected with his temple. 

John felt a sharp pain and lost focus on the world. He black out on the floor of the sitting room, blood running into his hair as the Millers killed the fire. 

The police showed up with the firemen and an ambulance and a social worker showed up right after. 

The Millers wanted the boy removed that night and not brought back. They said he caused the fire damage in the house. An investigation is started but ultimately drop when the witnesses can't agree on what they saw. The fire is deemed an accident. 

John is taken to the hospital and treated and taken back to the Boy's Home the next day. No one was surprised to see him back. 

They were surprised by how angry he was this time. 

Three months after the fire St. John Allerdyce ran away from the Boy's Home and could not be found by the authorities.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Running away from the Boy's Home

After the Miller's John had gone back to the Boy's home to the same bed and the same boys who always picked at him. Their favorite game seemed to be to see how long they could pester him till he'd explode. It didn't take long for him to blow up at them now. 

They knew just how to pester him. They'd making loud sudden noises. Flashing the lights on and off. Touching his head, arms, shoulders. Looking over his shoulder when he was reading or writing. Talking really loud next to him. Take things from his plate during meals. 

All these things were bad enough on a regular day but it was a hundred times worse when he'd gotten back because he'd been sick with headaches and nausea and he was constantly bothered by running what happened at the Miller's over and over again in his head. 

For weeks after he would close his eyes and Mr. Miller's hand would be pulling at his collar choking him and Mrs. Miller would be crying calling him a monster. He woke up in the middle of the night dreaming about the scarey smile on Tom's face as he'd swung the bucket at his head.

John didn't truly understand why it had all gone so wrong there and what he'd done that had made them all crazy. Well what he'd done to them before the fire had come to him. 

He tried really hard to just not think about it but there were reminders he couldn't get rid of, the burn on his arm had healed leaving a scar on his forearm. He favored wearing his long sleeve shirt whenever he could so he didn't have to look at it. 

When he wasn't at the boy's home he was at school in the city with some of the other boys. 

He never liked school. He just didn't fit in. The only thing it had going for it was the students mostly left him alone. 

No one paid the thirteen year old much attention at the school he was going to. He never sat with any one at lunch and hardly ever spoke to anyone. He was pretty sure all the teachers were either afraid of him or couldn't be bothered with him. It didn't seem to matter to anyone if he turned his work in or not. 

'No one cared about him.'

It was a rough school, there were lots of trouble kids that probable had more potential and better chances of making it than he did. The only time he really interacted with anyone was when some bigger kids decided to push around the weird parentless teen. 

Today he sat in math class with a fat lip and a bruised cheek from fighting with one of the boys at the home. Things weren't good and John knew he had to do something. 

He starred out the window planning his escape. Today he won't be at the van that took the unfortunates back to the boy's home. Today he was running and never coming back. 

John had packed his book bag the night before with a toothbrush, some apples and crackers he'd been able to save, a couple pairs of socks and underwear and a t-shirt so he'd be ready to go. 

They had been keeping an extra close eye on him since his return from the Millers and it wasn’t because they were worried about his concussion. 

They were going to have him tested. The Dean of the boy’s home had made it no secret that they wanted John tested for the x gene.

The way the adults talked it sounded like the test was expensive and took a lot of paperwork to get but they wanted it done because they needed to know it John was dangerous. The accounts that the Millers and the boys had given of the night of the fire had led the dean to believe he had a mutant at the home and the only way to officially get rid of the ‘potential monster’ was officially. 

John had heard of the testing before there had been a couple strange incidents at the home over the years and a few boys had gone through the process, he recalled two that had been found negative, they had come back to the home. They were bullied mercilessly upon returning and both were wrecked. 

One that he could remember didn’t come back. John didn’t know what the boy’s mutation was but they must have deemed it dangerous because once the test came back positive the boy was shipped off never to be seen again. The staff had assured the boys that the mutant had been sent to an institution where they were equipped to handle those things. 

The boys at the home had hissed at John while he’d sat at diner and in the common room that the test was painful and the needles that were shoved into you were the size of drinking straws. John thought they might be joking, messing with him, but it seemed a little too possible, John knew that the test involved needles he’d seen the scars of the boys who’d come back. 

His plan was to slip out during lunch because then no one would miss him for at least 30 mins not that he thought any of his teachers would be to concerned if he suddenly wasn't there for class.

John got so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't realize the teacher Mr. Casey had been calling his name the man was standing over him shouting his name.

“Saint John?” John flinched away from the man shouting in his ear. 

“What!” John questioned equally loud. 

“Saint John you're being a distraction and disrespectful.” The man and pretty much everyone else had never learned to pronounce his name and it grated on John's nerves. 

“What?” he said surprised. 'How was he being a distraction he hadn't been doing anything but sitting here?' 

“Your incessant tapping and fidgeting is a distraction.” 

John looked away from the intense man and his eyes wondered back towards the window as he replied “Ok.” John hadn't realized he'd been doing any of that.

“Look at me when I'm talking to you!” The man's eyes got big and his face got red, John looked at him and knew the man was suddenly very mad but he didn't know what set him off. “You need to leave, get out, go to the principal's office.”

“What?” John was shocked, He was trying to cooperate, he didn't know why he should be punished. 

“Get your things and get out of my class room. Come back when you've fixed your attitude young man. I've had enough of you.” 

John sneered at the older man, something he seemed to be doing a lot of lately. “Fine whatever.” 

People who got angry and changed in the blink of an eye were what he'd come to expect anymore. He was so ready to be away from everyone people were nothing but frustrating. He grabbed his bag and his note book and walked out of the class. 

The hallway was empty, he looked up and down. He debated if he should go to the principal's office like he was told to or if he should just leave now. 

This wasn't the plan. 

There was still a good hour and twenty minutes before lunch. If he left now he'd miss that last meal. But if he went to the principal's there was a chance he could get put in in-school suspension and then he might miss his opportunity to leave. 

He needed to leave, this was it his chance. 

It, was surprisingly easy. 

John held onto his book bag straps and kept his head down as he hurried away from the school. No one seemed to be following him so it appeared he’d made his escape. 

He wondered what would happen when he didn't show up at the van. 'Would they even notice?' There was always a chaperon with the boys when they were driven places, recently it had been some middle aged balding guy who tried really hard to be everyone's buddy his name was Mike or Nick or something. Mike Nick probably had a list of everyone who was suppose to be on the bus. 

'Would everyone's buddy make everyone wait while he questioned to see if anyone knew where John was? Would they be stuck there while they called the principal or the school's resource officer?' He smiled as he thought about it. He hoped they got held up for hours and missed dinner and everything. 

They'd been nothing but mean to him since he'd been back. 

He was pretty sure except for Mike Nick who might get in trouble because John was missing no one would miss him.

He walked quickly and tried to avoid bumping into people on the crowded sidewalk. There were people with briefcases and tourists with cameras, couples with shopping bags. John weaved his way around and through them. He kept moving only stopping when the traffic lights said he had to. 

He’d never walked through the city by himself before. It was noisy with all the people and all the cars. People were carrying on conversations and there was loud banging from a construction site across the street that made him jump every time. He fought against distraction and disorientation.

He didn’t know where he was going. It really didn’t matter where he ended up, he only knew he needed to get as far away from the school as possible.

John walked on as fast as he could putting as much distances as he could between him and everything he’d come from. There was no hope now of getting into another foster home or getting adopted. 

All that was waiting for him at the Boy's home was a painful test and probably a padded cell for the rest of his life. He’d long ago given up any delusion that his birth parents, whoever they were, would one day show up and take him back. 

He had resigned himself to being alone. He figured it would be ok he'd been mostly by himself his whole life and he could take care of himself.

The only thing he wasn’t crazy about was not knowing what to expect from his new life. He had been planning to run away for three months now and he’d tried to pay attention to what the homeless people in the city did as he’d ridden in the van back and forth from school to the home. 

It seem like they carried all their stuff with them, slept were they could in doorways and on park benches. He’d seen them going through trash cans to find food, he hoped he wouldn’t have to do that but anything was better than staying at the boys home and getting the test. 

John had a good idea what the test would reveal and he knew that whatever the outcome was things would have gone from bad to worse for him if he stayed. 

John had gotten too lost in his thoughts and he couldn’t help running into the back of a woman who stopped suddenly in front of him. The woman had turned quickly at him and John was reminded of an angry bear. 

“What do you think you’re doing? Watch it!” She’d screamed at him. 

He stepped back from her and tried to get around her but the big woman wouldn’t let him by. “Why aren’t you in school?” She yelled. 

He opened and closed his mouth unable to think of what to say to her, he was coming up completely blank. He needed to get away from this confrontational person. “You a dummy or something?” 

John glared at the woman and pushed passed her into the crowd not caring if he ran into anyone else. 

He hadn’t expected anyone to talk to him. He hadn't thought about random strangers questioning what he was doing. Strangers could be trouble. One busybody could set the authorities on him and it would all be over. He would have to figure out what to say if he got asked again, that and where he was going to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John experiments with fire

He'd gotten pretty used to being yelled at and chased away by strangers in the past couple weeks. He'd been sleeping in a doorway, on a bus stop bench and in alley ways at night and mostly wondering around the streets during the day. 

He didn't stay in the same area very long so that people didn't get to familiar with him and start asking questions about what the young boy was doing hanging out on the streets. He had found frustratingly that people would did notice him thought he was nine or ten years old instead of thirteen. 

He had worked up with a list of things to say to people he encountered when they questioned him and what he was doing. 

He knew that he should make it sound like he was suppose to be there and that there was an adult he was waiting on or one he belonged to near by. He had a whole story about his “father” who was coming to pick him up but had been held up in a meeting at work. 

His 'story' played and replayed again and again as John walked around inside a 7 11 waiting for the spring rain that was falling to stop. 

He could tell the man behind the counter was watching him. He could feel the man's eyes on him. He needed to look like he was going to buy something. Really he had about fifty cents on him which couldn't buy him anything. So he made a show of looking like he wasn't doing anything when really he was looking for some food to pocket. 

He thinks about it carefully. He's been desperate enough to take stuff before and knows that he didn't want anything too big or with a wrapper that made too much noise. 

He grabbed a couple granola bars swiftly when he was fairly sure no one was looking and shoved them in his pants pocket and then strolls down the aisle like nothing is happening. 

He winds up in the back of the store where there are some odds and ends on a shelf: ducktape, toilet paper, motor oil and matches. 

He sees the matches in the little red cardboard box. His heart jumps at the sight and instantly he wanted them. 

He hadn't been around any fire in almost four months. Since the incident at the Millers. 

John shuddered at the memory. The feeling of fear and anger he felt that night hit him like no time had past. He swallowed and pressed his hands against the sides of his neck. He wanted a pressure there that wasn't the feeling of his shirt collar choking him. 

He pushes the memories back, they were about the Millers and what they'd done not about the fire. 

He missed the fire. 

He grabbed the box of matches and shoved it in his sweatshirt pocket just as he saw the store attendant peaking around for him. 

John goes around the aisle in the opposite direction and quickly slipped out the door and down the street tolerating but not liking the steady rain that was now soaking him. 

After the rain subsided John found a quiet back alley and crouched down under the cover of a loading dock overhang hidden from the view of the street by a pile of crates. 

He ate half of one of the granola bars and put it back in his pocket to save the rest for later. He'd eat the rest later. It wasn't really enough food to keep him from being hungry but he'd worry about that later. 

He pulled out the small box of matches he'd taken and examined it. It had a rough side, he's seen Mr. Miller use matches before so he knew that he had to run the match along that rough side for it to ignite. 

John shook the box and liked the way the matches sounded inside. He pushed the cover back on the box and revealed the little wooden matches inside. He took one carefully out of the box and slid the box closed.

With great anticipation slid the match down the rough side of the box excited to get to see fire again. He got to the end of the strip and found nothing happened. 

He looked at the match confused. 'Had he done it wrong? He'd had the head of the match to the rough side. That was how it worked wasn't it? Had he gotten a dud? Was something wet?'

He didn't know so he tried again. He slid the match down the side two then three more times getting more agitated each time until finally he ripped the match down the side of the box. 

It made a satisfying scratch and than lit. A surge of joy rushed through him. He'd made fire. 

He sat transfixed and held the burning match up and watched the little flame consume the match head. He watched it until it had worked its way all the way down the match to his fingers. He was mesmerized until it burned his fingers and he dropped it. 

“dammit” he exclaimed and put his finger in his mouth. 

He hadn't expected that. In his last encounter with fire he'd held it in his hand and not been hurt and now a little tiny flame was causing a pain that he's probably feel for the next few days. 

He thought about the feeling of holding the fire in his hands and decided he'd light another match. 

He got it lit on the second try this time and watched the new little flame. It started working its way down the match this time instead of it burning his fingers he focused on it and in his mind yelled at it to 'stay.'

This time it didn't touch his fingers. He watched as it stayed just above his fingers until it burnt away all of the match that was fueling it and then died away. 

He couldn't believe what he saw. That night at the Millers hadn't been a dream or a head injury induced delusion and it hadn't been a fluke. He could actually control fire. 

He felt a joyful excited energy serge threw him and he rocked back and forth and hummed as it passed. 

He moved quickly on to the third match. This time he concentrated and the flame stayed just on the very tip of the match.

He played with the matches and the flames for over an hour. Rocking and humming in between intense focus. He worked his way through nearly the whole box and after the hour had a little pile of spent matches in front of him. 

Over and over again he lit a match and focused on it holding willing the tiny flame to stay just on the head of the match. 

He was down to his last two matches and even though he felt himself getting tired he decided he needed to try something.

Lighting the second to last match he held it in one hand and held out his other hand and focused as hard as he could. Nothing happened at first. But he kept focusing on the flame and willing it to move.

When it happened it happened fast. It was like in one second the flame decided to jump faster then he could see it move.

It was suddenly in his hand and it nearly knocked him over. But he 'caught' it and now he was holding fire. It danced about his palm.

The feeling was like nothing else in the world. He got the feeling somehow that it must be wrong. People weren't suppose to be able to do this. He could feel the flame's heat but it wasn't burning him. Maybe this meant he was a devil, a monster just like Mrs. Miller had said. 

As he watched he got more and more overcome by the intensity of what was happening and the flame he held grew. It started as the tiny match head flame and soon it was the size of a baseball and then bigger. 

The flame started to jump and reach and suddenly it seemed too big and too powerful for John. 

He didn't know what to do with the flame and started to panic. “Stop” he yelled. His plea didn't seem to do much. 

He focused on it and tried to make it shrink but he was tired and the fire didn't do what he wanted it to. 

It started reaching out and stretching and before he knew what was happening it caught the crates next to him and started burning them. 

“No no no” He said as the crates started to smoke and he could feel it burning too hot at his side. “Out!” he cried scared and panicked and the flames in his hands died but the crates continued burning.

All the commotion he caused had alerted someone inside the building. They came out the back door to see what was going on in the alley. They started yelling when they saw the fire and John grabbed his bag and ran as fast as he could to get away.

It was a few days later when the urge for flames got too great to ignore. John reached for the last match he'd been carrying around with him. 

He found a quiet spot amongst the shipping containers in the warehouse district and lit the match. It burst into existence and set about consuming. 

John had promised himself he was going to stay focused and keep it small. He called the flame to his hand and it came. He sat crossed legged on the ground and held it in his hand.

Experimenting he raised and lowered his hand then he moved it side to side and the flame followed.

It hovered steady in the center of his palm. He then decided to see what would happen if he poked it. So he held his breath and he slowly moved his left index finger towards the flame. 

His finger went into the flame but it didn't burn. 

He then thought of the flame hovering over his finger tip and the flame jumped. 

He only thought it and it happened. He was amazed. He made the flame move from his finger tip to his thumb and back. John was so thrilled with this movement back and forth that he sat with the flame going back and forth for an hour. Rocking and humming feeling totally content and focused. 

In that moment, he wasn't scared and hungry, he wasn't unsure and lost, he was ok.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John hangs out in the park on a summer day

His shoes had gotten small again. He felt like he'd just gotten this pair and he couldn't believe he was already out growing them. They pinched his toes and he knew he'd have to find a new pair soon. They were really grating on his nerves.

It was a hot summer day. He was walking in the afternoon looking for a good place to crash for the night. Every step was worse then the last and finally he couldn't take it anymore he sat down in the next doorway he came to and took his shoes and socks off.

The sidewalk was hot from the summer sun but it didn't feel uncomfortable to him. He walked on. He found himself watching the ground and his feet as he went. He looked at his feet as if it was a wonder that they belonged to him. They were paler than the rest of him, thin and boney. 'feet are weird looking' he thought. 

With his bare feet he could feel every crack in the pavement and pebble underfoot. The pavement in this part more modest part of the city was old and gray and weeds popped up threw the gaps. 

He'd heard people at the boy's home say that teenage boys grew like weeds. The first time he remembered hearing that he wondered if it meant that they needed water and sunlight to grow. The next time he heard it he figured it must mean that they sprung up everywhere you didn't want them. Now he figured it must mean fast, teenage boys grew fast in all conditions just like weeds. 

John walked on leisurely. School was out now so he didn't worry about people hassling him during the day about being in school like he had during the school year. He just kept moving towards the destination he had in mind, a park that was about fifteen blocks away. The people he passed on the street didn't pay him any mind bare feet or the ragged jeans that were ripped and worn and getting too short.

John hadn't been in this part of the city for a couple weeks and he figured the park would be a good place to spend the day and maybe the night if there weren't too many shady characters hanging around.

He'd found that he really didn't want any part of the criminals and lowlifes that frequented many of the same places he did. Those people were always too unpredictable. He was always on guard for a potential threat.

The park had lots of people in it when he got there but it seemed pretty safe it was mostly kids at the playground, parents and sitters watching them closely, young people on the grass playing frisbee and lounging, guys playing basketball on the court. He didn't see any drunks or bums that he would need to avoid. 

The grass was cool compared to the warm pavement and it made John shiver. He found a spot under a tree a little distance from where most of the people were congregating. He sat down with his bag next to him and his knees pulled up to his chest. He watched everyone mill around for a while.

He felt the urge build inside of him to pull out the plastic lighter he had with him and play with the flame but he knew that wouldn't be a wise thing to do with all these people around. He wanted to stay in the park and he didn't want to draw any attention to himself. 

Playing with fire certainly would get noticed. 

Instead he grabbed a piece of string from his pocket with a paperclip hanging from it. He whirled it around and around as he sat. His thoughts wondered from food to sleeping to what the weather might do until he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned quickly towards and found a beetle crawling threw the grass next to his foot.

He watched it and wondered where the beetle was going. Where did it live? What did it eat? Was it looking for food? Was that what it did all day everyday like him, look for food and a place to stay the night? Could it control each of its six legs individually or were they all sort of automatic? Did the beetle know John was looking at him, another creature or was he just some big object in the beetle's way. 

The beetle soon wondered out of sight. John continued spinning his paperclip on a string. He focused on the spinning and the grass under his feet and between his toes. He zoned out pleasantly in the warm sun. 

His eyes wondered and he could barely hear the people all around him. 

He wondered why people killed bugs that weren't doing them any harm. He understood that some bugs like mosquitos that would bite and wasps that would sting sometimes had to be killed. That was self preservation, protecting yourself. 

But he'd seen Mrs. Miller kill beetles in her house that weren't harming her. Surely she could have just taken the bugs outside and sent them on their way instead of killing them. Why treat all bugs the same? Some were unpleasant but some were useful. Was it only the pretty bugs like butterflies and Lady bugs that got a free pass? Did all ugly bugs have to die? 

Sometimes people were just seemed so narrow minded and cruel.

John contemplated this and wished he had some paper and something to write with but he'd run out of paper a while back.

He was startled from his thoughts and jumped as someone shouted. He looked around and realize there was a guy looking in his direction. The guy shouted again “a little help!”

John looked around unsure if the person was talking to him. There was no one else in the area that the guy could be looking at so it had to be him.

John looked back at the guy confused as to what he wanted help with.

“Little help, kid.” The man called across the grass. John really couldn't figure out what in the world the guy wanted and the guy started getting closer. 

John tensed as the guy came jogging in his direction. He got closer and closer and John's heart started pounding in his chest. He wondered if he should grab his bag and run. The guy was nearly to his tree when he bent down and picked up a red frisbee that had been on the ground a few feet from John. 

“Thanks for nothing.” The now irritated guy off handedly said as he jogged away.

John glared at the guy. 

He's the one that should be angry, the guy had him in a panic all over some stupid frisbee that the stupid guy should have just gotten himself in the first place.

John sat fuming, thinking over the interaction. He hadn't seen the frisbee, He didn't know that's what the guy wanted. John rocked back and forth and let his back hit the tree truck as he did. He thought about how annoying people were and tried to get his heart to stop pounding. 

He started to reach for the lighter in his pocket again but stopped. He knew this wasn't the place for fire. He hated that he couldn't do what he wanted, it was painful to him to not be able to do it. This time he denied himself he chose instead to tear at the grass around him and rip each blade into little pieces. 

He settled down a bit after a while and watched the kids at the playground. They were running in all different directions and some where screaming. Some of them had snacks, John could see some with cookies and juice pouches. His stomach growled at the thought. 

John watched as one kid with a big red apple took a couple bites and then dropped it on the ground when another kid hit him and yelled “Tag” as they ran away.

John was up and moving across the grass before he could give it a second thought. He moved swiftly and retrieved the discarded piece of fruit. There were only a couple small bites out of it, John couldn't believe his luck. He brushed the dirt off and the ant that was crawling on it and went back to the tree with his prize. 

He ate the apple all the way down to the core and noticed a couple glances from the parents around the playground in his direction.

He glared in their direction, putting on his best 'stay away from me' posture. He didn't need them giving him a hard time, he wasn't bothering them. 

He sat there in the park for a long time, fiddling with things and just thinking. He imagined all the people in the park as ants milling around and picked one of the mothers, the tall one with the big earrings to be the Queen. He gave them all jobs and started to think of stories with the different characters. 

Eventually the sun went down and some people left and some new people came. The playground cleared out and the lights went on at the basketball court. 

John wondered over to the swings. The ground around the playground equipment was covered with rubber bits, like shredded old tires, it was meant to protect little kids when they fell. The texture of it felt all wrong under John's feet, it was too dry, too rough, too squishy. He made it to the swings and sat down. He'd like swinging as a little kid at recess as long as no one pushed him but he couldn't keep his feet on the rubber stuff without cringing so he gave up and moved quickly back to the grass. 

He made his way over to the basketball court. There were lots of people crowded around watching. They stood and sat on benches and John stood on his toes to look around them to see the game. No one paid him any attention. 

He'd never really had much interest in sports, it was kind of interesting now though to watch the guys run up and down the concrete. He certainly liked the sound they made as their sneakers hit the ground as they ran. It brought to his mind images of a fire devouring wood in a fireplace. He closed his eyes and just listened for a little while. 

Then a person in front of him stepped back knocking into John. The man apologized over his shoulder but John was irritated, and upset about the shock of it. He decided to move on. 

He stepped to his left intending to leave and promptly tripped over something in his path. The big toe on his bare left foot getting stubbed awkwardly. He hopped and regained his footing looking angrily down at the offending obstacle. It was a gym bag and a pair of slip on sneakers.

They must belong to one of the players, he thought staring down at them and getting an idea. John looked around him. Everyone was watching the game no one seemed to see him or seemed to sense what he was thinking. 

As quickly as he could he bent down and scooped up the shoes. 

He walked away from the court and out of the park as quickly as he could not looking back. He was loosing his nice place to stay for the night but he figured it was worth it. He didn't stop until he was a couple blocks away. When he was confident no one was coming after him he slowed down and slipped the shoes on. 

They were simple black canvas with white rubber around the bottom. They were loose on his feet, probably at least two sizes too big but he could deal with that. He'd find something in the morning to stuff in the toes. At least now his feet and toes weren't being pinched, he walked a few more blocks and found an alley with a large doorway to stay in for the night.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tries to stay warm on a cold winter night and winds up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Warn: Mutant hate and Molestation

The months passed by and winter came and John found he didn't like the cold even more than he remembered from years past. In the city it was cold and grey all the time and all the alley ways became wind tunnels. 

This time of year things all around him reminded him of the day at the Millers where they screamed and yelled and called him a monster. 

He tried hard to keep his head down and not be noticed. He stole when there was nothing else and he was in need. 

He didn't want to go back into the system so he couldn't go to the shelters for fear of being turned into the authorities. 

As the cold weather dragged on his thoughts became consumed with fire. It wasn't enough to find a warm doorway to sleep in at this point it was getting bone chilling cold out. 

He tried to keep a pocketed a plastic lighter he took from different convenience stores on him whenever possible. The cheap lighters had taken him some time to get used to. They were harder to work than the matches and even after he practiced the mechanism was often so tight he found it hard to get it to work with cold fingers. But when he could get it to work the lighter was more practical than a box of matches.

When he was alone and out of sight and he got a flame he took the flame from the lighter and held it close and it helped keep him warm. 

One day in January close to his birthday after just holding the flame for a while he unconsciously started to play. 

He passed the flame from hand to hand and then let the flame wind around his fingers weaving in and out. The time passed and he felt warm and content as his body enjoyed the repetition. 

Eventually he got tired and the flame was harder to control. He knew it was time to extinguish it. This was the difficult part because the loss of the flame and it's heat left him cold, too cold, again. But he couldn't sleep and keep the fire close. As soon as his eyes closed the flame would no longer be in his control. 

He stays up as late as he possible can. He holds the flame until his body starts to feel heavy and slow and his eyelids start to droop. 

When he extinguishes the flame he pushes himself back into the doorway. His back flat against the wall of the building he curls up as tight as he can hoping his body heat will last the rest of the night. 

 

A few days later he's managed to collect a few dollars. To get out of the cold he heads to an all night diner he's found where they don't ask questions and the waitresses don't seem too ticked off that he doesn't tip as long as he sits in the back and doesn't make any trouble.

He's been so hungry all day, hunger has been a constant nagging presence lately. Now he sits utterly consumed with what the waitress has brought him a true feast of toast with butter and jelly, it's warm and sweet and tastes good even when he washes it down with the city tap water which he thinks has a funny aftertaste. 

He sits in the back booth and minds his own business. He eats slowly trying to make it last and not get kicked out out of the diner. He's just happy to have food and to be out of the cold for a little while.

At about 11:30 three drunks come into the diner and sit down at the counter. John had seen the type a lot in the past few months they were overly loud and clumsy.

John cringed at the noise they made, banging and stomping. He pushed himself into the back of the booth till he couldn't get any further back. He kept his head down and tried to not attract any attention. 

He wasn't trying to listen to the drunk men's conversation, he was trying to get lost in his own thoughts but they were loud and when one of the three men started talking about mutants John found he couldn't tear his attention away.

He had heard that their were issues between humans and mutants before. He'd seen headlines about riots and knew lots of people were scared of people like him because thats what he was, he knew it for certain now, he was a mutant.

The drunks leaning on the counter apparently didn't like mutants very much. They were cursing and cussing about the “freaks and the weirdos” saying things like “they all should be locked away because they were a danger to society.” 

John bit his lip, it wasn't the first time he's heard it suggested that mutants should be locked away. It wasn't the first time he's heard it suggested that he should be locked away.

He glared in the direction of the foul mouthed men and wondered what they'd think if a mutant put them in their place. Not that John was going to be that mutant. The thought of doing more than ignoring them, scared him. He had heard of mutants being killed by mutant haters and that frightened him. He was smart enough to know his odds weren't good against three big men but he could dream.

The men's loud angry discussion brought the manager out from the back office. He asked that they keep their conversion down and instead of doing that they gave him a hard time, calling him a “mutie lover” and a “freak.” The manager then threatened to call the cops if the men didn't get out of the diner. 

That's when everything went to hell. 

The men apparently were looking for trouble because the mutant haters started shouting and threatened to tear the place apart for being a mutant haven. 

John stopped eating his toast and started trying to figure out an escape plan, it looked like things were going to get ugly.

“Leave” the manager shouted but the men started getting rough one drunk pushed the manager, he stumbled back with a shocked and nervous look on his face. He went for the phone but the drunk who'd pushed him grabbed it from him. The others laughed. 

One of the other drunks grabbed the waitress who had been standing to the side he held her tight around the waist and pressed his face into her neck. She tried to push him away but he was too strong. 

The old man who cooked came out of the back “What do you think you're doing?” He shouted.

The drunks were unfazed by the old man's appearance. 

The third man started to look around to see if there was anyone else in the diner. John's heart started pounding like it would burst out of his chest.

The man started to stalk in his direction and John got under the table and tried to make himself as small as possible. In his panic he accidentally knocked over his glass of water and gave away his existence.

The man saw him and grabbed for him without hesitation. He tried to pull John from under the table “Come here boy!”

John struggled and fought but in the end he was over powered. The drunk man got a hold of John's collar and yank him from his hiding spot. “I said come here.” 

“Look what I found.” The man proclaimed proudly like he'd found a prize the others would be jealous of. He held onto the boy and spoke over his shoulder. His breath was hot and stunk of booze and cigarettes. 

He pulled a cigarette out and put it to his lips with one hand while gripping John's neck with the other. 

John who was scared and upset by all of this now held his breath in anticipation if this man lit the cigarette maybe he could get the flame and distract the men.

'but would that make things better or worse for him? Could he scare the man or would he just make the mutant haters angry?' 

He waited for the man to light his cigarette. Fear and anxiety caused his heart pound like a jackhammer. He could hear the beating in his head. His eyes were wide his vision narrowly focused in on what the three threats were doing. 

John could actually feel the pull of the flame from the grill in the kitchen but he couldn't see it so he had no idea if he could catch and control it, he'd never tried manipulating flame from a distance that great. He had no idea what would happen if he tried to pull it to him. 

The waitress a woman probably in her mid forties struggled against the man holding her roughly. “You don't like mutants do you, smart woman like you?” the man mockingly cooed in her ear.

The man holding John spoke around his unlit cigarette. “They're all dangerous weapons walking around the streets they could kill our women and children in the blink of an eye. This young man here knows what I'm talking about don't you son?” He gripped John's neck.

Words tumbled out of John's mouth suddenly without any consideration for his self preservation. 

“Go to Hell I'm not your son.” John pulled away and got his neck squeezed hard and a forceful shaking. 

“Not with a mouth like that you little bastard.” The man smacked John hard in the back of the head. “What are you doing up past your bedtime boy, shouldn't mommy have wiped your ass and tucked you in by now?” The man slurred his words as he grabbed at John shirt and belt.

John squirmed away from the drunk mutant hating man groping him with the cigarette dangling from his mouth. The man tugged at John's pants and then grabbed the boy by the neck again as John glared and growled low in his throat. 

John wished he could set the awful man on fire with his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> continuation of the diner and John's first encounter with Mutant hating bigots. Warning: depictions of molestation and intentions to rape.

As the other drunks spouted off hateful speeches to their hostages the man pulled at John's hair. “get off” John whimpered as the man poked at and pestered him. The man's hand landed back on the waistband of John's jeans. “You sure are a skinny little waif, ain't ya.” He hissed. 

The manager found his voice again as he watched the one drunk molest the young homeless boy.   
“What do you want?” He said with wide eyes shocked at the actions happening around him.

“We just want to keep our city safe from the mutant threat.” said the man still holding the waitress.

“We need to know if you're with us or against us.” The man looming over the manager spoke threateningly. But the manager didn't respond instead the old man from the kitchen did. 

“Don't come in here spewing hate and expect support. You need to let Margaret and that boy go.” He spoke from his spot behind the manager.

The man who had John held him tighter and possessively. “Don't tell me what to do old man. I'll keep him if I want him... no one's gonna miss you are they boy. Little street urchin like you probably doesn't even have a momma to miss you.” The man spoke in John's ear in a tone that mocked sweetness. 

John's senses and nerves were going nuts, screaming that he was in danger! All he wanted was out of this place and away from this man. John started to tremble, he knew this drunk intended to do terrible things to him.

“Damn,” The awful man dug through his pockets and apparently couldn't find what he wanted. “where's my lighter?” 

He took one look at the old man from the kitchen and dragged John with him across the room. He went through the other man's pockets. He found what he was looking for a lighter in the man's breast pocket, silver zippo lighter.

The man held it up triumphantly and John's eye's lit up, maybe he would get his flame and he would be able to get out of this situation. 

The men all laughed at the humiliation of the old man, the old man was at a lose for words he'd lived through war and riots and now these jackasses came into his place of work, his home and threatened people and spat hate. He couldn't let that stand. 

“We've tried to do this the easy why but you wouldn't let that happen would you. Now we'll have to do it the hard way.” The old man said seriously. 

John and everyone else in the place wondered what the 'hard way' was.

“What are you talking about old man?” The man who had John asked as he flicked the lighter open.

The old man fumed and his face went blank and his eyes went dark then suddenly the man was smoking, at least that's what John thought before realizing rather he was steaming.

The old man opened his mouth and boiling hot steam blasted out at the man that held John. 

John threw up his hands to shield his face and the drunk dropped the lighter but not John's neck as he reeled back shouting “Oh shit it's one of them.” 

John's hands were sore from the scolding steam but the awful drunk man had taken the full blast and his face and arm were raw and blistering when the steam was finally directed away from them. 

The waitress screamed and the steam mutant turned to blast the other two men. 

“Fuck.” One of them shouted and everything next happened so fast John wasn't even sure what happened just that there was a loud bang and the steam mutant was on the ground. 

When the haze of steam cleared and John was shocked to see the diner manager holding a gun.

It hadn't even been one of the drunks that had done the shooting. 

“What the Hell was that?” The manager yelled. The waitress was in hysterics. John's brain felt like it was on fire. 

“One of these dangerous mutants you hear about man.” The man holding John's neck harshly dug his fingers in to John's skin as he bent down to reach for the lighter he'd dropped. He dragged John towards the body on the floor.

Blood was starting to pool. “See what we're talking about by. If he wasn't stopped he would heave killed all of us.” The man kicked the mutant on the ground.

The manager was muttering still holding his gun and the waitress was crying uncontrollably. 

John couldn't look and cringed at the sound of the dead weight hitting the tile floor. That mutant hadn't intended to kill anyone. He was trying to protect innocent people from the crazed bigots. Only to be killed by someone he probably trusted. 

John was mad and scared and felt ill and was ready to get the Hell away from this creep. The man started to bring the lighter up and flick it on. John's heart jumped at the thought of the flame and suddenly the grill in the kitchen burst into flames. 

Everyone still alive in the diner jumped at sudden fire.

John could see the flames and wondered if the fire was because of him or just because the grill was left unattended. The flames got big fast.

“I've got to get out of here.” The man holding the waitress yelled and he and the other drunk fled, knocking over chairs as they ran for the door. 

The man who's grip was still iron around John neck didn't want to get off of him, he made no move to leave and didn’t' seem at all frightened by the grill fire. He seemed amused by it in his drunken stupor. 

The manager fumbled with his phone “I've got to call the fire department”

“What about Leon?” The waitress asked.

“He was acting crazy he was a deranged mutant anyone would understand why I had to shoot him.” The man tried to justify his action. John got mad. 

“He was trying to save you and you killed him!” John screamed at the stupid manager and the flames in the kitchen got higher. Smoke started to billow into the restaurant.

“You a mutant sympathizer boy?” The man asked coldly with a mean look in his eyes. “ I'll show you the error of that line of thinking.” 

As the man went to grab him around the waist again John didn’t even think he just cried out and the fire jumped from the kitchen to spread across the counter. The waitress flew out the front door and the manager dropped his phone and ran.

The mutant hater held tight to John not relaxing his grip and not fleeing from the fire like a normal person. He was too drunk to be afraid of the encroaching flames. 

“Now it's just us.” The man had about ten inches and a hundred pounds on John and he was easily able to push even an adrenaline filled John back into a booth as the fire spread down the counter.

John tried to get the fire to come to him but he was too busy fighting off the man to focus. 

John kicked at the man and got hit hard in the face for his actions. “You god damn street trash.” John felt his lip swell and blood in his mouth. 

“I'm going to show you what a real man looks like.” The man started to go for his own pants. 

John's vision swam and he scrambled back away as far as he could get on the booth bench from this predatory man who was getting excited by the violence, danger, and dominance he was inflicting.

John wouldn't let this man hurt him anymore he would get away from this man if it was the last thing he did.

The man started to pull at John's pants. John desperately reached out to the fire on the counter, begging for it to save him. It came screaming to him. Heat enveloped him. His hands now held flames and the awful man pulled back startled and confused “What the Hell?” 

“Get Away From Me.” John screamed.

The man realized what was happening. “I wouldn't touch mutant shit like you.” The man spit in John's direction and John's flames flared. 

The awful man jumped back finally afraid and ran for the door his shirt and the crouch of his pants on fire. 

John slumped back in the booth relived and exhausted. He extinguished the flames he held and closed his eyes. He came back to his senses when he heard the firetruck sirens. He scrambled out of the booth and grabbed his things and the counter and kitchen burned. 

As he was getting ready to step around the poor dead man Leon something shiney on the floor caught his eye. The lighter. 

John grabbed it. Holding it in his hand he could see now it was decorated with a painting of a shark. He pocketed it, silently thanking Leon and slipped out the front door and away from the burning diner. 

John ran through the snowy streets and kept running, because of the adrenaline coursing through his veins and his need to escape all the horrible things that had just happened.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John can't help but stumble into trouble. More mutant haters and John has a panic attack

He startles more easily now and that’s saying something because he’s always been jumpy, ready to run or fight at any loud noise or unexpected occurrence. Now even when he anticipates the noise or happening it leaves him shaky and with jangling nerves. 

Every brush of a passing stranger on the street is a threat. Every loud sound the city makes is a gunshot that stops his heart.

He keeps the dead mutant’s lighter, his lighter now, like a talisman against evil and a line of defense. Whenever there were too many people on the snowy city streets or people got too close his fingers wrapped around it in his pocket. 

He liked the feel of the smooth cool lighter in his hand and the noise the lid made when he flicked it off and on. The resounding ‘clink’ was very satisfying. The shark painted on it seemed fitting to him, he had to keep moving to stay alive just like a shark. 

The ignition wheel was easy to work unlike the cheap plastic ones He loved to flick it and see the flame jump to life. The only problem with it was that it needed to be refilled so he tried to use it for fire sparingly he always as a few of the cheap plastic ones with him anyway. 

On a warm day in April a few months after the incident at the diner John walked the sidewalks like he did most days when he heard something going on down the street he wasn’t sure what but there was always stuff going on in the city, there were lots of loud parades, sports fans poured into the city for different sporting events, and there were protests and rallies that happened for all different kinds of issues.

John didn’t like to get caught up in the crowds so mostly he avoided that stuff but sometimes he ventured into them because they were always a good place to find things, dropped money, hats, gloves, half eaten hotdogs, he wasn’t too picky these days. 

He was just hungry enough today to tempt the discomfort, he figured he’d go and see what was happening and see what he could find and then he'd get out. If he found something good it would be worth the day or two it always seemed to take him to recover from the excitement.

He walked towards the noise of a crowd and saw up ahead of him a few blocks a lot of people on the sidewalk all crowded in front of what he figured was a government building. He wondered briefly what they were gathered for, he could see some of them had signs but his stomach growled and he moved into the crowd without any other thought then food. 

There were lots of voices all talking at once to John it all sounded like a loud roar and it hurt his ears.

He made his way along the edge of the crowd, his head down looking around. Not seeing anything useful he made up his mind to venture in. It was just what he didn't like, lots of people, all too close, elbows and arms and legs sticking out in all directions.

He weaved through the crowd searching and then spotted it. He pushed through people in excitement they pushed back some but he got through. 

On the steps of a store front he grabbed up a small paper container someone had left forgotten or discarded with french fries.

He grabbed them and hungrily shoved the cold greasy fried goodness in his mouth. He sat down on the step where they had been and ate quickly. They were gone too fast but at least it was something. When they were gone he looked around from his low vantage point to see if there was anything else. There wasn't any more food around but he saw a flier on the ground near his feet. 

He picked it up the brightly colored paper and read the bold type 'Mutants are Monsters.' He blinked at the writing not believing what he was seeing. Looking up his ears connected to his brain. The hundreds of people all around him were shouting about mutants. His breath caught in his throat as he realized that he was in the middle of an anti mutant rally. 

He couldn't breathe and his body started rocking. He wrapped his arms around his body protectively and he blinked to try and clear his vision as it started to swim. He needed to keep it together. He needed to get away from these people. 

He needed to get away and wanted to get away but found he couldn't move. Moving threw all these people seemed like an impossible task. He brought his knees up to his chest and sat rocking on the step. He looked left and right, hoping to see an opening. There was a sea of people in both directions. Angry hateful people who were unpredictable. His breathing started to come in short quick bursts as panic set in. 

A man with a bullhorn walked past him screaming about the mutant threat and John's hands flew to his ears to try and block out the loud sounds. 

He tried to get his breathing to slow down. No one was paying him any attention maybe if he just stayed here on the step he could wait out the people they had to disperse at some point. If he could just stay as small as possible and press his back to the wall. 

John was starting to zone out rocking slightly his book bag adding a heavy pressure on him, his arms wrapped protectively around his middle when the door to the shop behind him opened and nearly hit him. The group of people come out of the store they push and knock into John in their excitement to join the picketers.

John was startled and angry and scared. He jumped to his feet ready for a fight and his hand going for his shark lighter. He wants to show them what he did to the last mutant hater who pushed him around. Just before he can flicks the lighter out a bullhorn nearby makes a horrible screeching noise distracting him.

He comes back to his senses and pockets the lighter quick, this is no place for a slip like that. He shakes his hand when he gets it out of his pocket like he's burned it dispelling some of the energy built up from the incident and not released with a flame. 

Now that he's up off the step he's got a choice should he sit back down and wait it out or should he try and get out. Neither choice was ideal both meant discomfort. He looked at the huge number of people between him and a way out and panic tightened his throat and he sat back down on the step. These people had to leave at some point didn't they? 

There was so much hate and misinformation being spewed at the rally it made John sick to his stomach. The idea that mutations were somehow a punishment from an angry god or that they were monsters sent to test the faithful. The people shouted that Mutants were dangerous and couldn't be trusted. That they would destroy civilization and wreak havoc on society. That the government should do something to protect the public from the Mutant menace.

John sat and stared at the cracks in the pavement and thought about what these people were doing here with their signs and their bullhorns 'Who were these people that they thought they were better than mutants? Couldn't anyone of these people pick up a gun and be dangerous, couldn't anyone of them with a little work be a menace to society?'

John got angrier and angrier the more he sat there. 'Mutants weren't the problem. Sure every once in a while there was an incident involving a mutant but you try waking up and finding out lava shoots out your ears when you sneeze and see how you handle it. No the problem was these people who couldn't understand. Simpletons.' 

The sun started to set and finally the rally participants started to thin out, finally John could see a clear path to the end of the block. 

Even as he made his way out he fumed and glared and didn't care who he knocked into on the sidewalk.

He needed to get far away and burn something soon or he might explode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, tbc...


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Mutant Haters, John has to eat, Awful horrible people are Awful and horrible

The next day John notices that there are still protesters in the city Anti Mutant protesters seem to be every where John turned. The rally flyers littered the streets and the head lines on all the newspapers seem to scream about the dangers of Mutants. 

The rally had been topped off the night before by a confrontation between a mutant and some protesters in old town. It ended with people going to the hospital.

John heard in passing conversations that the mutant involved had a visual mutation. John was thankful his mutation wasn't written on his skin for all the world to see. At least he could pass. He could hide. Other's weren't so lucky. 

He did hide he tried to stay away from old town and from any large crowds. He was more cautious than ever before about going near people.   
But he was hungry so he couldn't avoid people entirely he needed to find something to eat. 

He'd found that when it was nicer weather out and more people were eating outside that if he waited by one of these outdoor eating areas and timed things just right he could grab the leftovers off a leaving customers plate before the dishes were bused. 

So he made the decision to hang around Sal's pizza joint on elm and waiting for his chance. He had his eye on a nearly whole half of a sandwich it didn't look like a lady was going to eat. He got excited when he saw her reach for her purse. He got ready to run for it when he felt a hand drop onto his shoulder.

John jerked away from the hand and turned quickly to face who ever had touched him. In these situations it was often a waiter or manager there to tell him to beat it cause a street kid hanging around was bad for business but when John turned he found a face that had been haunting his nightmares.

“I thought that was you.” The horrible drunk from the dinner was there grabbing for him.  
John turned and ran as fast as he could down the sidewalk.

He heard the man yell behind him. “Dangerous mutant someone stop him!” 

John turned to look over his should back at what the man was doing as he did a large arm was reached out in front of him. A big man clotheslined a running john right across the throat. 

The next thing John knew he was on the ground seeing stars with a man that could have been a linebacker or a mack truck standing over him leering. John tried to get his breath and held his aching throat. 

“Mutant Mutt.” The man spat at him. John flinched away and in a daze tried to remember what was happening, tried to remember how this man knew he was a mutant. 

Then there a voice that made John shiver. “I'll take care of him.” 

The realization of what was happening came crashing down and John jumped up off the pavement and tried to get away again but there were now two men bigger than him there to stop him in his tracks. 

People all around them on the street back away from the altercation. No one was coming to John's rescue. He was in trouble now. 

He looked around frantic for a flame. Someone smoking maybe. The horrible man must have suspected something because his eyes got narrow and he threw his fist at John's face. “You won't burn me again freak.”

Lights exploded in John's vision and then everything went black.

The musty smell was what he noticed first when he woke up. He wrinkled his nose at it and tried to turn away from it. But he couldn't escape it and he soon realized it was all around him. It made him gag. Which in turn made him realize he couldn't open his mouth, he was gagged.

He tried to open his eyes and realized he couldn't. 

He moved to bring his arms up to his face and found that his wrists were bound with duck tape and there was tape wrapped around his head and over his mouth and around his eyes blinding him. 

Panic screamed in his head. 

He wanted to get up and out of here. He started to tear at the blindfold but stopped when he heard loud footsteps above him. 

'This is it.' he thought 'this is the end.' he knew that the horrible man was going to kill him or worse.

Tears started to well from fear and pain as he struggled with the tape around his eyes. 

His stomach did a somersault when suddenly there were lots footsteps cross the floor above his head and then the sound of what he thought must be the basement door. 

John curled up on the cold floor trying to make himself as small as possible to protect himself from whatever was coming. 

He could hear men and women's voices as people came down the stairs. With the people came the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke but not one of them still had a lit one John couldn't feel any fire. 

They stood around him as he cowered on the floor. 

Someone kicked at John catching his left arm that was folded up to protect his middle. John cried out. 

“God Dale that's just some dirty homeless kid you've got tied up in the basement.” One of the girls sighed, she had been promised a dangerous mutant and was disappointed by the pathetic sight of this kid. 

“Ya see this, that is what I'm talking about.” Dale slurred in his drunkenness. John recognized Dale as the awful man from the dinner. “This one doesn't look like he's got the rocks to hurt a fly. He's got a god damn baby face but this bastard nearly barbequed me.” Dale punctuated his statement with a kick to John's thigh. 

“He's really the fire mutant that got you?” Another man in the basement said sounding skeptical. “I don't know I mean he doesn't look like much.”

“Yeah well he's dangerous believe me and he may look all non threatening but then wham he's shooting flames. That's why the government needs to round them all up and lock them away. They can hide in plan sight.” 

“It's hard to believe Dale, why isn't he doing anything? Get him to do something.” a female voice whined as John sat on the cold hard floor scared and in pain. He wished he could set her hair on fire. 

“Do something Mutie come on.” A man nudged John with the toe of his boot. John flinch away and a muffled cry escaped through his gag and sound pathetic even to his own ears. 

“Why aren't you doing something?” Dale growled angrily looming over him. 

John got the sinking feeling, as if things weren't bad enough for him, they were about to escalate. If he could do something he would but he didn't have his lighter they must have taken it. 

The crowd started to grumble “Dale I think you got the wrong kid or something.” Someone accused. 

“Your drunken ass couldn't tell a mutant from a vagrant.” 

“It's him, it's him, I'm telling you.” Dale cried and grabbed John by the collar shaking him. 

“yeah right Fire Mutant sure.” 

Then Dale drunk and frustrated jerked John by the collar hard and then threw him to the floor. “He just needs some persuasion...” 

Dale pushed John over on his side. John tried to put his hands up to protect himself but Dale swatted his efforts aside. 

Dale put his hand down on the side of John's head and held down pressing John's face into the floor. John couldn't move or see or even really breath. 

The bigger man then straddled John's hips. “Aren't making fire...what you a little broken mutie...I've got what you need...” Dale muttered under his whiskey breath. 

There were low whistles and menacing chuckling all around him as John tried to squirm away from Dale.

Suddenly John felt a flame ignite, it was in the room but he couldn't see it so he couldn't control it. He wondered where it was and if it could help him if he could get the blind fold off. Then just as suddenly he knew where it was and it wasn't helping.

Dale lit John's T-shirt sleeve on fire. 

John bucked and kicked as the flame burned his bicep and moved up to his shoulder. He couldn't scream with the man's hand pressing down on his face and the tape around his head practically suffocating him. 

There were multiple hands on him now holding him down he could hear them drunkenly heckling. 

He jerked and struggled his fingers desperately tearing at the tape as the fire burned his arm. He bucked and kicked at the bodies all around him but they held him firmly down. The flame kept burning burning him. 

Then something distracted Dale and his grip on John's face slipped. The movement though painful for John does pull the tape being used as a blindfold. Skin and eyelashes get ripped away as the take is pulled off but in that second John was able to see the fire. 

He takes control of the flame and Dale and his drunk cohorts get the show they wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Kudos are appreciated, constructive comments are welcomed


	14. Chapter 14

He ran for his life. There were people in the street shouting about the row home behind him as it was being consumed by fire from the basement up. The fire had hurt him and then saved him and was now beyond his ability to control. John didn't stop running. 

His feet slamming on the pavement quickly became the only sound he could hear. 

He ran until his lungs burned and till he thought he might blackout and then he pushed himself to go another block and then another as blackness crept into the edges of his sight. 

He turns down one dark street and then another, he didn't know this part of town. He found what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse He got inside by painfully prying open a door that's chained till there's just enough room for him to slip in. 

It's dark inside the building, an oppressive dark that seems to go on forever. John puts his back up against the wall just inside the door and slides down it till he's sitting on the floor holding his injured arm. 

He can still feel the all the hands on him holding him down, the feeling of the phantom hands makes his skins crawl and he shakes himself trying to force the feeling away. He accidentally hits his injured arm on the wall and bites his lip with a groan. Tears well in his eyes and it hurts but at least focusing on the searing pain in his arm, gets the feeling of the hands to go away. 

His arm burns. He is angry. He is hurt. He wanted to curl up and never see anyone ever again. He also wanted to burn the world for hurting him.

He wasn't going to burn anything anytime soon though.

Every sound made him cower. His arm ached and he held it close to his body. He shivered in the cold dampness of the dark and the adrenaline wore off leaving him feeling drained. 

When he couldn't stay awake anymore he cautiously made his way into the building. He found stacks of flattened cardboard boxes and put them under a table. After crawling under the table he pulled chairs all around and curled up with his book bag under his head, his hand on his lighter in his pocket and his back firmly to the wall. He took what little comfort he found in the dark closed space. 

He had nightmares and found he couldn't sleep for long without mutant haters invading his dreams and coming to hurt him. When he was awake he sat under the table in the dark holding his throbbing arm. He didn't light a fire, the shark lighter stayed in his pocket. 'Who knew who would see the flames in the dark and come for him.'

He didn't eat and hardly slept for the next two days. Then a pang of hunger shot threw him and he knew he needed to find something to eat. 

He pushed himself up and moved out from under the table where he'd been hiding. He was cautious as he moved out. Every step he took was a chore. 

His head and arm hurt. His stomach hurt. He was hungry, headachey and his brain wanted to be hyper alert. His head was on a swivel his eyes darting around and focusing on anything that moved or made the slightest noise. 

He took his book bag and trudged back to civilization. He needed to find something to eat before his stomach ate itself. 

Finally he made it to a populated part of town. There were people out and about and John choked down the anxiety of seeing all the humanity and trudged on. 

He bucked traffic on the sidewalk and followed the buildings on the left side. He felt safer with the wall at one side. People walked around him giving him a wide berth. He figured they weren't happy about him being on the left instead of the right side of the sidewalk like everyone else. 

'deal with it.' he thought snidely. Probably they were all humans anyway, stupid horrible humans. It wasn't until he caught his reflection in the storefront window that he realized he looked practically deranged and that was probably why they were giving him looks. 

His hair stuck up at odd angles. There were dark circles under his eyes and a bruise on the side of his head that was still dark and painful looking.

He had put on his zip up hoody and that covered most of his damaged shirt but it agitated his burn so he was holding his arm at an odd angle. He was probably worrying the passers by 'Good' he thought 'let them worry.' worry and fear were his two primary feelings at the moment. It seemed only fair to him that he should share.

He didn't know where he was heading he just knew he needed to get somewhere. He watched the people moving around him like a hawk and he shrunk back from anyone who got too close. 

He's so busy watching the people around him that he didn't look where he's walking and tripped when his foot hit a step that jutted out past the building front and into his path. 

He tripped and landed on his knee his hands out in front of him took most of his weight. The pressure on his burned arm is too much and it folded under him causing his book bag to come down and slouch over onto that arm adding further injury to the already insulting situation.

He picks himself up and glared at the step. He held his injured left arm with his right and kept moving under pure will power. He's running on fumes, he knew he needed to find some food somewhere, soon.

He'd never been so desperate that he dug through the trash before but he is truly desperate now. He knows looking like he does that if he went in a store or hung around a restaurant he'd be noticed right away. He definitely couldn't blend in like this. 

So trash can it was. Anything to just keep going. If he can just find something to keep him on his feet then maybe he'd be able to clean himself up and get back to normal. 

'Of course it couldn't be easy, was anything ever?' It's hard to find anything in the trash. 

One can on the curb had a chip bag with some crumbs at the bottom. The next had a cup with what was probably melted ice in it. Eight blocks and three trash cans later John sat down on the curb in true defeat. 

His stomach growled and ached and he felt like he might pass out and throw up all at the same time. 

He wondered now for the first time since running away if he went to the authorities if they would take him back into the boys home or if they'd send him away to some kind of juvenile jail for everything he'd done or to some kind of mutant holding facility. 

He sat the curb, cars and people all moving past him in a whirlwind his brain no longer wanted to track. His thoughts were miles away. 

He imagined himself sitting under a tree at the Miller's before everything had gotten really bad. He could almost picture the leaves over his head when a shadow fell over him and a voice spoke. 

“Young man you look like you could use some help.” 

He'd never heard of the Church of Saintly Miracles before but the woman who managed the place was feeding him so he figured they were ok in his book. She said her name was Miss Jane. She was an older woman with grey hair and she reminded John of Mrs. Miller a little but he was trying not to think about that. 

She said she'd seen him in the trash and it was part of her religious beliefs that she needed to try and help anyone she could so she'd brought him into the back of the church and had him sit on the back step while she made him a peanut butter sandwich. 

He'd never really liked peanut butter sandwiches, the stuff stuck to the roof of his mouth and was a generally unpleasant texture but in that moment it was the best thing he'd ever eaten. 

She gave him a bottle of water and told him if he was every really hungry again to come back and ask for Miss Jane. 

For the next month he stays mostly in and around the old abandoned warehouse far away from people. One part of him knew that he should be moving to a new area. That he'd been there too long, that the danger of being noticed was increased but the part that keeps coming back to the same spot is scared and hurt and recognizes that warehouse as a place that has been safe.

He gradually moves out from under the table for everything but sleeping and he eventually can't ignore the fire calling him. The bits of string, a paper clip, a large smooth stone and a few links of chain he's found to occupy his hands and his calm his mind are replaced by little flames that he has jump between his palms cautiously. 

The skin on his arm heals from his burn. The spot is scarred and darker in color. The skin feels odd and stretched under his fingers. He hates it. 

It's not that it's a mar on spotless skin that's far from the case, he has the burn scar from Tim at the Millers and other scars on his body some that have been on him since forever that he doesn't remember getting.

No this was just that it was a change to him and he didn't like it. It's yet another reminder of a terrifying event and something that shouldn't have been. It was upsetting to him.

He gets desperately hungry again after a surprisingly cold and rainy stretch in May. It wasn't the hungriest he'd ever been but when he can't find anything and he's having a day where he's just too anxious to walk into a store and take something his feet take him back to the Church of Saintly Miracles.

He knocked on the back door and asked for Miss Jane who came and asked him to wait on the back step while the choir finished up rehearsal. 

He sat down and waited. He played with the zipper of his hoodie and kicked at the gravel in the alleyway. 

Miss Jane eventually stuck her head out the back door. “I'm getting something together for you would you like to come inside?”

John nodded and stood up. She opened the door to him and ushered him inside to a kitchenette in the back and directed him to have a seat at the small table. 

“I'm glad you've come back to see us.” She spoke over her shoulder while she spread peanut butter on a slice of bread. 

John nodded but doesn't speak he's too busy looking around. The place is spars the only decorations are some ruffly curtains in the window and a couple crosses on the wall. He can hear voices in the next room. He tried to hear what they were saying and missed what Jane in front of him said. 

He looked back at her when a plate is set in front of him. She looked at him like she expected something. 

“I'm sorry what?” He asked as politely as he could. It'd been a long time now since he sat in a kitchen and was expected to talk with someone. He suddenly felt very self conscious. 

Jane smiled at him but didn't feel comforted by the expression. “I asked what's your name...” 

“John.” He answers simply while taking a big bite of the sandwich. He probably bite off more then he should have because he really didn't like the way it felt to chew peanut butter. 

His stomach growled, he remembered why he was there and he kept chewing. 

“So John how long have you been on the streets?”

He hitched his eyebrow at the question instead of answering and kept chewing, he wasn't sure he wanted to answer questions.   
She slide a glass of water across the table to him and took the seat opposite to him. “It's only that you look like you've been out there awhile and you look very young. Isn't there anyone to care for you?” 

“I...” John started to say he was fine on his own but had to take a drink first and before he could continued a number of people, probably members of the choir came in looking for Jane. 

“Oh Jane who is this?” One woman asked as three of them and a man crowed into the small kitchenette. 

“This is John, he's come to visit us.” 

“Hello John.” “How are you?” the people were all talking to him as he took another bite. He nodded at them as he chewed. He really didn't want anything to do with them, he only came back here for the sandwich but they were all jabbering on like he was going to join their church or something. 

He kept eating and let them talk until one of them put a hand on John's shoulder and he practically jumped from his chair startled. 

After his reaction to what they thought was a simple gesture they all looked at him like he'd grown a second head. 

“Sorry, sorry.” he said blinking at them and trying to shake the feeling of unwanted hands on him. He rubbed a knuckle into his eye and reached down to grab his book bag. “Hum thanks for the sandwich.” he stood up and was met with all eyes on him. 

Jane stood with him. Before he could move to the door he was walled in by the parishioners and Jane took his hands. “Any time John. Any time you need help. You are welcome here like all of God's children.” 

John couldn't get his hands out of her's and away from all their intense eyes fast enough.

He left the place feeling uneasy and hoping that he'd never be so desperate that he'd have to turn to them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.   
> If you like any part of this story please consider Commenting. I'm Thinking One maybe two more chapters and then the X-men will show up.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Religious Fanatics 
> 
> I had to break this chapter up cause it got too long so One more chapter til x-men I think.

John kept his routine for the next few months he moved cautiously around the streets during the day keeping busy finding food and then he stayed at the warehouse at night.

He worked hard to not be in a predicament where he had to go back to the church and Miss Jane for food and he did pretty well most of the summer. People were out and about. He built up his courage again and got pretty brave about taking scraps off of plates and sneaking things out the convenience stores. He's even had some young woman give him twenty dollars. She said she was 'paying it forward' he didn't know what that meant all he knew was he ate better than he had in a long time for about a week. So well in fact his stomach hurt for days afterwards.

It got swelteringly hot, the city was practically an oven by mid July. 

The heat didn't really bother him. He didn't mind being hot and didn't think anything of walking around in jeans with his hoodie zipped up carrying his book bag. Eventually though his t-shirt and hoodie got soaked with sweat and the feeling of the fabric sticking to his skin was unpleasant enough to make him take the sweatshirt off and air out a bit during the day.

John didn't know that someone had noticed him on the streets everyday and didn't know that the person now knew who and what he was.

It was the evening of August the 23. The sun was just starting too set and the orange glow of the sun as it went down caused John to squint as he headed west back to the warehouse for the night. With the sun hurting his eyes he couldn't see the face of the woman walking towards him as he tried to step to the right to avoid walking in to her. She didn't step to her right like he expected her to instead she walked at him and grabbed his arm John went to yank his arm away but she held tight and when he turned to face her he eased up a but.

It was miss Jane from the church he was surprised to see her though he probably shouldn't be they were only a few blocks over from the church “Hello John.” She greeted as she held his arm tightly, tighter than he would have liked.

“It's been a long time Dear.” 

“Hum yes...” He looked at her wondering what she wanted , why she was holding onto his arm. He wished she'd get to the point and let of his arm. The arm that she continued to hold. “Thanks for the sandwiches.” he said hoping that's what she wanted and that she'd let him go. 

He watched as her eyes widened and she had a smile slide into place on her face “yes you're welcome and I'm so glad I caught you. I'm heading to the church now and my arthritis is acting up. Do you think you could help me the couple blocks there?”

John looked at her and looked around to see if there was anyone else around better suited to the task. He was no boy scout. There was no one. “Hum sure.” He looked down at her hand on his arm and cringed while trying to hold a smile. “Just a couple blocks.”  
“Oh good.” She hooked her arm in his and continued to grip his arm tight. They started to walk and she leaned heavily on him.

“Thank you John for being so helpful.” She filled the silence he he was painfully aware of but unsure of how to fill.

“You should have a reward for helping me so kindly as you are.” She thought for a moment.

“We just had a donation of some clothing and things to give to those in need I'll let you take a loo;k at the things and have your pick fits does that sound good?”  
John gave her a small smile and a nod he hoped his expression placated her.

They reached the church and she opened the front door and entered the dark building. He didn't make a move to follow her but she opened the door wider and waved him in. He hesitated but stepped over the threshold the idea of getting some food and the possibility of some new clothes was just enough to make him follow.

She walked ahead of him through what he thought must be the main meeting room. He'd never been in this part of the building before and it was to ark inside to really see. The front windows were really all there were and there were thick shades drawn over them that blocked out most all of the light from the setting sun.

“Follow me John.” She moved further in and followed. “it's a very nice name, John, there are more than one saint with that name. Is that how you chose to hide your true nature?”

John stopped in his tracks unsure what she meant and then he heard movement behind him. 

John turned and Jane continued talking “Why didn't you tell me you were a monster?” He heard the door lock click behind him and on instinct he reached for his lighter.

He was tackled from behind by more than one person before he got it out of his pocket. Before he could scream or curse there was a rag put over his nose and mouth and very quickly everything went fuzzy and then dark.

He came back to reality with a gasp for air.

He had been splashed in the face by ice cold water. He shook his head but couldn't get rid of the startled and disoriented feeling. 

When his eyes cleared he wished they hadn't there was the brightest light every in his face burning his corneas when he opens his eyes. He closing his eyes quickly John tried to turn away from the light, he tried to get as far away as he could and realized he couldn't. 

He was tied to the chair. His wrists and ankles were tied up. “What is this?” he asks swallowing thickly as his panic rose “What's going on?” 

He shook his head but the drugged feeling lingered. There were people in the room but he couldn't make out anything but their silhouettes pasted the bright light blazing in his face.

The people didn't say anything, John strained to see past the light but it made his eyes water. He felt like his heart might beat out of his chest. 

Finally someone spoke. “We know you're a mutant.”

John could hardly hear past the pounding in his chest. But he heard what had to be disgust in the man's voice. He heard that tone before and images from the basement and the diner and the rally popped into his head. 'this is bad, so bad.' “What's that to you?” He growled. 

“We want to help you John.” A new voice was now sickeningly sweet. 

“help me what, get used to staring at the sun?”

“We want to help rid you of your affliction.” They stated calmly. 

“What affliction?” John's voice raised in volume and pitch, he couldn't hide his distress if he tried. “look tying someone up is not helping them, this is seriously weird and you need to let me go. This is illegal.”

“I don't think we have to worry about keeping you, you were chosen for a reason. Is there anyone who would miss you if you don't come back to the warehouse tonight? Tomorrow? Next week? “ John cursed 'this was really really bad.' “I didn't think so. It's because you've got the Devil in you John.”

'These people must be religious fanatics.' “I'm a mutant I'm not possessed!” 

“Aren't you? Have you ever thought about why? Why are you a mutant? Something other than human? Perhaps it's because your parents angered God in some way, they opened up their child's very being to the Devil.”

“God?” John was familiar with the idea but never totally sold on the concept. “It's evolution. It's got nothing to do with the devil.”

“Your blasphemous words only confirm to us that you've got the Devil in you. You're a monster hiding behind an angel face.” 

“Look man, I can see you're serious about this so I'm not going to argue with you just let me go. I'll get out of here, you'll never see me again, Just let me go.”

“We as God's children are burdened with the task of doing his work in this mortal plain. He has spoken to us and told us that we can help those afflicted with mutantism that through him we can expel the Devil from those poor souls. We've elected you to be saved.”

“Please I don't know what you think you're doing or gonna do but it's not mutantism, I'm a mutant, Just let me go.” He couldn't seem to get through to these people, he couldn't quite vocalize what he needed to to make them understand. 

“We will set you free, free from the devil and the monster that has hold of you son.”

“I'm not your son.”

“You're God's son.”

“I don't know him either.” 

“You will.” John pulled at his restraints as a gag was tied around his head “Let us begin.”


	16. Chapter 16

The church of Saintly Miracles de-mutanising rituals included lots of praying, reading of scripture, holy water, some singing and keeping John awake for twenty hours a day. They woke him with loud noises and sudden wake up calls. While their captive they gave him nothing but bread and water, forced him to stay on his knees for hours. They inversely were always screaming at him or talking to him like he was a small child.

His senses felt like they're burning. 

After a week he was so tired and disoriented he couldn't see straight. 

He stopped talking. 

The act of processing and forming words with his mouth parts took too much energy. They took his lack of talking as compliance. 

If he could get his brain and his mouth to connect he'd tell them what he thought of them and their efforts. 

They locked him up in a damp cellar when they weren't 'exercising' him. He slept as much as he could at first but soon the rude awakenings made him so jumpy he couldn't fall a sleep unless he passed out. 

When ever he was alone or zoned out his mind imagined fire. His hands moved as if opening and closing his lighter. He rocked till he'd bruised his back and shoulder on the wall and then rocked some more.

Then one day, how long after he'd been trapped there he didn't know, he was dragged out of the cellar and put on his knees in a room lit by a single light bulb that hung above his head. It lit him but left the rest of the room him shadow. 

He coughed and shivered in the weak light. He was achey, tired and didn't feel good. He wised this would all just be over. 

He'd long since stopped fighting against them and they had stopped bothering to tie him. They had never been secretive about their plans for him. Now he could hear them talking about him just outside the door. 

“I think it's time we tested him.” 

“I'm not sure, he's not opened up to us completely yet. I think we still have work to do to crack this demon.”

“He's compliant. It's been three weeks, how will we know if it's worked if we don't present him with temptation.”

“Do you really think it's time?”

“I think it's why we picked this one. We could take away what the demon wants, now we have to give it back. We have God on our side and have done everything he has asked of us the mutant should be gone. Look at him he's broken”

“How should we do it?” 

“Get the lighter.” 

John heard the word and felt almost like smiling. 

Soon the church members were standing around him. “The time has come to see if the demon is still in you boy.  If that monster still has hold of your soul.  We are going to present the object of its desire and in front of these witnesses and God we will discover if you have been saved.”

Their voices came out of the darkness all around him. 

“You’ve been heal John.” 

“Renounce the Devil.”

“Be one of us.”

“You’ve worked so hard.”

“You can do it John.”

John watched their little ceremony, ‘do they honestly think their weeks of torture made me not a mutant?’ ‘Did they honestly think that if they give me a flame I won’t burn the place down?’ ‘Apparently.’

John’s shark lighter was set in front of him on the floor and he looked at it trying to figure out what the catch was. Perhaps it didn’t have any lighter fluid in it.  

His brain was sluggish from lack of sleep and lack of food. It hurt and trying to wrap his brain around all this strangeness was painful. 

The people around him started singing.  He didn’t really like the song.  They looked like the loved the song. He wanted to roll his eyes but it felt like too much work.

John reached for the lighter and the singing got louder.  

“Expell the Devil’s voice, let God fill you.”

John had listened to these people rant about God and the Devil, Heaven and Hell and call him a monster for weeks and the only things he was certain of was that they were the monsters and he was a mutant.

John opened the lighter “we picked you for a reason, it was God’s will.”

John lit the flame.  “We saved you!” 

“No” was all John said as he took the flame in his hand and stared at it. He could feel the heat and it felt so comforting. An old friend come to his rescue. 

Suddenly something hit him in the face, startling him and reminding him he wasn’t alone. He blinked the holy water out of his eyes and glared at the people.  

He stood on shaky legs and as he did the flame in his hand grew.  

“The monster still has hold of him.”

“He is beyond saving.”

“Dear Lord the Devil is in our house.”

John needed to get out of there he wouldn’t be able to hold the fire for long. He was too tired to keep it going and in his control. 

He moved towards the door.  The Church members moved back from him staring at the flame he held.  He never took his eyes from them as he moved through the doorway. 

Once he was through he moved quickly.  The building was dark but the flame he held helped him navigate the unfamiliar area.  

He was busy looking for an exit when he was jumped from behind. 

It was a bigger, older, heavy man who had tackled him. John went down hard. He twisted and fell as he was tackled. He heard a popping noise and then felt an intense pain in his ankle. 

The flame he held didn't go out rather it flared in his hand leaping at his attacker.  As the man put his hands up to cover his face John squirmed away from him and struggled to the door.  The flame then got away from him, it danced over the floor and up the nearest wall.  The pain in his ankle and the fear of another attack superseded John’s control.  

The flames moved fast and even though they were out of his control now they were a welcome distraction for his pursuers.

John limped as fast out the building and away as he could, it wasn't fast enough or far enough for his liking.

His blood was pumping at a million heart beats a second and he could barely think but he could hear them behind him.

“Mutant Menace.” 

“UnHoly Devil.”

“Monster!” 

Their angry frightening cries made him push himself harder to escape and solidified his conviction to not trust people.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the X-men to the rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda doing my interpretation of how the X-men would find troubled mutants. Hope it's kinda what happens canonly.

Charles had sent them to find lots of young mutants over the years. So many of them were runaways and cast outs who'd wound up living on the streets. Today Storm and Scott were looking for a fourteen year old kid living on the streets in Philadelphia. 

The professor had found him using Cerebro and knew that he had an ability that dealt with fire and that he'd been on his own for a while and from what the professor had seen it looked like the boy was in distress. 

They were going to try and find him and see if he would come back with them to the school. They knew what he looked like from the projection the professor that put into their minds. They just didn't know exactly were he'd be and it was a big city.

“This might take awhile.” Scott said as they drove across the Benjamin Franklin bridge into the city. 

“I know.” Storm acknowledged.

They drove around for a while and ventured into some of the more down trodden areas that they thought the boy might be holding up in. They even drove though some industrial areas that they suspected the kid might frequent complete with a burnt out warehouse that they suspected might have been torch because of the boy.

“Do you think we should be inviting a fire starter to the school?” Scott asked as he turned the car onto a more populated street. 

“There's a possibility that he could be dangerous to have around, but you know as well as I do that everyone deserves a chance. He might not mean to be setting fires. Accidents happen especially with the untrained.”

They were driving luckily in light traffic when suddenly Storm jumped and pointed out the window to their right.

“There, there, is that him? It looks like him!” The person definitely had the same black hoodie and old red backpack the professor had showed them. 

Scott accelerated forward turned the corner and dropped Storm off a block from where the kid was walking as he parked the car. 

Storm watched cautiously from a distance. It was always a tricky thing approaching the kids from the streets. They were usually wary around strangers. The last thing she wanted was to spook him. 

He was walking with his head down and his hood up but now that he was coming towards her and she could get a better look at his face she was sure it was indeed the boy they were looking for. 

“That's him alright.” She informs Scott as he joins her on the corner. 

She felt a jolt of excitement. “How should we do this?” 

“I always like the direct approach.” Scott stated. Ororo knew that's how Scott would want to proceed she wasn't sure it was the best way but it had worked in the past. 

“Just be easy.” Ororo cautioned but let Scott take the lead. 

The boy was walking in towards where they stood at the end of the block and he didn't seem to notice them or anyone else on the street until Scott walked right up to him. 

“Hi there kid.” Scott greeted cheerfully as he stepped into the boy's path. The kid stopped in his tracks and looked up just enough to see that Scott was indeed talking to him. “My friend and I would like to talk to you.” 

John stopped short when a person he didn't know was suddenly in his way. He instinctively took a step back from the man in the sunglasses. 

His heart rate jumped, his adrenaline spiked and he prepared to run or fight this stranger. 

“We just want to talk.” The man spoke again and held out his arm. 

John saw his arm move and flinched away from it. He didn't know if it was meant as a friendly gesture or if this man was going to make a grab for him. Instead of waiting around to see he turned to his right and ran. 

“Why do they do that?” Scott asked as he and Storm ran after John not wanting to loose him without at least talking to him. 

John held onto to his book bag straps as he ran down the empty sidewalk of a shady side street. 

Turning to look over his shoulder he saw that the man and a woman were running after him so he pushed himself to run faster even though he could feel his ankle protest.

Thinking of nothing but getting away from these strangers he ran into the street without looking. 

The step off the curb was taken with his left leg and the ankle he'd injured a couple weeks ago. He stumbled and fell. 

“Storm!!” Scott yelled as they saw the boy stumble in the street right in the path of a box truck. 

“I'll try.” The truck driver had slammed on his brakes but it looked like it was too late to miss John. 

Storm called up a powerful wind and blasted the truck. It was blown to the side and onto the sidewalk like it had been hit by a truck itself.

It just missed the boy. 

Storm raced to him Scott followed right behind.

John sat in the street in shock. He was wide eyed and trying to figure out what had just happened when they got to him. 

“You ok?” Scott asked. The boy didn't react or respond to the question he just stared at the truck that had almost hit him. 

Scott looked at Storm and back to the boy, he was unsure what to do. 

“Go check on the driver.” Storm directed Scott and then knelt down by the boy. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” She asked.

He breathed in sharply and then started to cough. A painful sounding cough that rattled in his chest. 

John knew the woman was talking to him and he could hear her but he couldn't make out what she was saying. He turned to her and even focusing on her mouth he was having a hard time so he turned his attention from her to his lighter. 

He found it deep in his pocket and gripped it tight. 

The woman was still at his side and he could feel she had put a hand on his shoulder but he focused on his lighter and tried to breath through the pain in his chest and his ankle.

Suddenly he heard something that he hadn't heard in a very long time. “St John?” He turned to the woman again and blinked at her, 'had she really just said his name?' 

“The driver's not hurt, thankfully.” the man in sunglasses came back in a hurrying. John was still trying to figure out what had happened when a realization struck him.

“Mutants?” John blurted out in bewilderment as he came out of what appeared to have been a shocked stupor. 

“Yes St John.” the woman smiled kindly at him.

John couldn't believe it. A million questions came to his mind but all he could focus on was how truly relieved that they were mutants and not mutant hating humans.

“Ok. Now, can you stand?” The man seemed unhappy and the worried John “Let's get you out of the road.” 

Suddenly the man and the woman were lifting him by the arms and moving him. 

He didn't like this, 'who were they, what did they want and why were they touching him? He could walk.'

John put one foot in front of the other and tried to keep up but his ankle ached and they were moving too fast for his liking.

“Hey get off.” He jerked his arm from the man as he was being escorted down the block. The guy might be a mutant like himself and have saved him from being creamed but he was the reason it happened in the first place. 

Scott and Storm didn't want to manhandle the kid. They just wanted to get away from the scene before any authorities showed up. They had been chasing a runaway minor and all of that would be a real nightmare to explain to the cops. They needed to get to a quiet place to talk to the kid. 

“In a minute, lets get a little further.” Scott pointed around the corner and Storm could see their car just up ahead. 

“Who are you people? What do you want with me?” John couldn't imagine what a couple of mutants could want. 

“We want to talk.” They stopped in front of a car and let go of him. John back away from them as they unlocked and opened the car. 

“I'm not going anywhere with you.” John said defensively. 

“How about being grateful I saved your life and just hearing us out.” Scott shot back. 

“You started it buddy.”

“St John my name is Ororo and this is Scott and we are from Xavier's school for gifted youngsters. We'd like to talk to you.”

“You're from a school?” John looked skeptical.

“It's a school for mutants.”

“You're kidding me.” John balked 'who would create a school for mutants?' 

“No, it's no joke. We've come to offer you a place to stay, an education, and training with your mutant abilities.” 

“Why?” 'Why would they offer anything to a nobody like him?' “What's in it for you?” John asked with a cough that sounded painful to Storm's ears. 

Ororo looked at the young man with concern “Well nothing, the school is run by Charles Xavier and it was set up to be a safe place for Mutants.”

“I don't see...” John started but Scott cut him off.

“Look we'll take you to get something to eat and we can talk about this, then you can make up your mind, ok?”

John knew he should probably walk away, that it was this exact sort of thing that had gotten him into trouble before. 'But they're mutants so it's different this time, right?' John had a nervous feeling in his stomach but it was overruled when his stomach growled.

He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and gripped his lighter. Mutants or not fire was pretty effective.

“Food?” he questioned coughing a little more. 

“Food.” Scott confirmed.

“Pizza?” John negotiated.

“Fine.” Scott conceded.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pizza

The cheese was melty and hot and the crust was thick and this wasn't warmed up 'dollar a slice' pizza this was a whole right out of the glorious oven pie. He sunk his teeth into his first slice hungrily without caring that the cheese was burning hot on his tongue. 

It didn't matter what these guys wanted to say, he'd gotten pizza and that made it a good day. 

“Slow down there sport, you don't want to make yourself sick.” The Scott guy hadn't taken his sunglasses off even in the dimly lit restaurant John wondered why but didn't ask instead he spoke to the woman. 

“What's your ability?” He asked the woman. He knew she'd done something to stop the truck but he didn't know what.

She smiled at him warmly. “Weather manipulation.” 

“So you can like direct lightning and hail?”

“Yes among other things. Like how I controlled the wind. How about you?”

“Pyrokinesis” He used the big fancy word he's read in the dictionary and left it at that, that was all they needed to know.

“How long have you been on your own St John?” Scott asked. 

John had liked hearing the lady say his first name but he didn't like the way the man pronounced it, it sounded wrong when he said it. “Call me John. I look out for myself, always have.” Well, for as long as he could remember.

He wished he could just eat in peace, trying to listen to them and answer questions was starting to be a lot. 

“Well we are offering you a place at the school,” Storm started. “you'd get to room with a another student, take classes in all kinds of subjects, and get your diploma. There are beautiful grounds at Xavier's and lots of children who have been through similar experiences to your's” John raised his eyebrow questioningly, he had a difficult time believing others had experiences like his. 

“Your experience is not uncommon in the Mutant community.” Scott knew first hand some of the trauma that came with growing up a mutant, he knew this kid's story wasn't that unique.

John narrowed his eyes at Scott's suggestion. 'What the Hell did this guy know about his experience?'

Storm could sense the tension building at the table and she tried steer the conversation towards happier topics. 

“We have field trips and movie nights.” Storm smiled at the boy as he took another big bite. She hoped he wouldn't make himself sick. He seemed very thin and peaked to her, he definitely had a cough that rattled his chest. “There are clubs and lots of activities. The cafeteria is always well stocked and students can get breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks.” 

“What do you think?” Scott put on his most charming smile, the one that often had the lonely hungry miserable kids jumping into his arms to be rescued. 

John didn't jump.

John thought this place sounded like a dream and therefore probably too good to be true. He was skeptical.

Even if it was real and they were speaking the truth he wasn't sure it was right for him. 

Sure the room and food would be nice but there would be lots of people and he'd never had much luck with people. He liked learning but school had always been a place filled with anxiety and frustration for him. He couldn't imagine living at a school. 

He thought what they were offing him didn't make a lot of sense. His life had taught him that nothing came without a cost. Definably not for him. If he believed this offer, it did sound kinda nice, and he took it he would certainly owe someone for letting him go to school there. Was that a debt he was willing to except? 

Should he trust any of this? 

All these things concerned him and he didn't know what he was suppose to say. 

They looked at him their eyes on him waiting for an answer. His overwhelmed brain spit words out of his mouth. “Too many things.”

He meant there were too many things too process, too many things at this school, that he could never afford it and that there were too many things to consider to just give a yes or no on the spot. 

The people across from him didn't seem to get the meaning of his words and were confused.

“Too many what?”

“What do you mean St.... John?” Storm didn't know what he meant and she didn't want to push him he seemed to be getting bewildered but she needed clarification. 

He openes his mouth as if to answer but then he doesn't. 

“I... I think I'm gonna go to the bathroom.” he climbs out of the booth to go and then stopped suddenly. He looks at Scott and Storm and then grabs his book bag from the bench. 

Storm knew she shouldn't read too much into it, lots of kids who lived on the street didn't trust easily and wouldn't want to go anywhere without their things. She also new that on lots of these trips the kids they found were ready to go with them to the school by this time. 

St John seemed to be an analytical thinker spending a lot of time weighing the pros and cons of going with them instead of being excited that someone had come offering him a better life. Storm made an attempt to appeal to his practical self preservation before he walked off. “We have medical facilities.” 

He stops and looks at her the way he had all evening, looking in her direction but off just a bit somehow not quite making eye contact. 

His odd gaze made her feel slightly uneasy. 

“You've got a cough and a hurt ankle and you need help to get better. We have doctors. Just come with us so they can look you over. No strings attached, if you want to leave when you feel better you can go.” 

The information made John pause but instead of giving an answer he just nods and walks off. Scott and Storm are left sitting waiting for the bill. 

“I could follow him and make sure he's not climbing out the men's room window?” Scott offers. 

“I think we've done the best we can and we can't force him to come with us.” 

Scott pays the bill and Storm puts the leftover pizza in a box. John had been gone for ten minutes and they both think he's probably left when suddenly he's back.

Storm was actually startled by his sudden reappearance but pleased. “Have you made a decision?” 

“How far away is this place?” St John asks, his hands shoved dead in his pockets. He sounds wary and tired. Storm smiles at him, he does not smile back he seems resigned to his decision. 

A few minutes later Scott is driving back to the school with Storm in the passenger seat and John in the back seat holding both his book bag and the left over pizza. 

He stays awake almost the whole way watching everything they did and trying to watch everything they pass as they drive. It is only in the last forty five minutes that the warmth and darkness in the car became too much and John falls asleep, his head resting on the cool glass of the window.

Storm feels bad waking him when they get to the school but they need to go inside. She reaches back and touches his knee shaking it as she says his name. 

He jumps more violently then she would have imagined, jerking awake with a cry at her touch. She pulls back her hand in surprise. 

He looks around his eye's searching, disoriented, trying to figure out where and with who he was. 

“St John” she spoke softly and he suddenly remembers what was happening. “We're here.” Storm informs him, he nods. 

Scott opens the back door and holds out his hand ready to help John out of the car. 

John does not take the offered assistance instead he works his way out slowly and stays as far away from Scott as he can. 

John notes that they are in a garage... a very large garage. 

“This way.” Storm coaxs him to follow her. He slings his bag over one shoulder, his eyes alert even under drooping lids and follows, his walk slightly hitched. 

He followed them into an elevator that takes them down to a hallway and where they walk to double doors marked medical. His heart pounds in his chest and he wonders if he's made a mistake.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> St John finally gets some help

Inside the science fictionish hospital/lab John stood nervously. He stayed just inside the doorway his arms crossed in front of him as his chaperons moved into the room and were greeted by two people. One was a young woman the other an older man in a wheelchair. 

John watched tiredly as they talked briefly. He coughed and wrapped his arms around himself as his chest ached. 

He wasn't sure what to do when everyone's attention turned to him. 

“Hello St John, welcome to our school I'm so glad you've decided to come with Scott and Ororo.” The man rolled closer to him. He sounded British to John but he wasn't sure. “My name is Charles Xavier and this is Dr. Jean Grey she's in charge of the medical facilities here. She'll be taking care of you tonight.” 

Instead of returning the old mans greeting or saying thank you John repeated Xavier “Facilities.” as his tired eyes drifted around the room. 

He meant a lot with the word, that he was unsure about this modern lab looking place, that he wondered if they had anything that could help his cough stop, that he was tired and the beds in the place looked like a good enough place to sleep, he wondered how safe he was here, and if they would lock him up like the church had.

To John's amazement instead of getting a funny look like people often gave him when he had word difficulty or they thought he was being snarky this Charles Xavier person seemed to understand.

“All we want to do is help St John. Our facilities here are state of the art, we have some of the most advance tech available and Dr. Grey will be able to give you a thorough checking over and we have many medications here on hand. Once you've been checked over and have washed up you'll be able to sleep. You our are guest if you need anything or wish to leave you need only say so.”

John rocked on his heels and tugged at the strap of his book bag and Storm swore she almost saw him smile. 

“Come along Scott, Ororo lets leave Jean and St John to it. Good night young man I hope to see you tomorrow.” John nodded. 

Storm passed him and smiled warmly “Good night.” Scott smiled and nodded before looking back to the lady doctor and leaving. 

“Come on in.” Dr. Grey wave for him to come into the large room. “You can put your things down over here.” She directed him. 

___________________________________________________________________________________

Charles had Storm and Scott join him in his office. “I'm glad you got him here.” 

“We are too.” Ororo agreed. 

“From the looks of him you were in the nick of time. How did things go?”

“He ran from us and didn't seem ready to believe us. Definitely one of our more difficult sells. Frankly I'm surprised he agreed at all.” Scott sounded tired. 

“He's doing a lot of thinking about a lot of things quite loudly I saw in his head he's here for medical assistance and not planning on staying any longer than needed.” 

“I think he is intrigued but skeptical.” Ororo offered. 

“Perhaps seeing the other students his own age will sell him on the idea of staying.”

Scott shook his head. “Professor I feel like there's something off about this kid, he seems kinda... I don't know... odd, he just hasn't acted like the other kids.”

“I only got a glimpse tonight but there's definitely been a lot of pain and anger in his life.”

“Well that describes a good percentage of the students here, I get that, we've all had difficulties.”

Storm felt St John was more cautious than some of the other children but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He didn't make eye contact a lot but that could have been nerves probably nothing to worry about. “He did behave a little differently. Maybe he's just very shy.” She offered diplomatically.

“Aaaahhh well I have some suspicions about him but I'll have to learn a bit more from him before I make any conclusions, if he'll talk to me tomorrow and gives permission maybe I can get a more in depth reading.”

“Alright Professor, do you need anything else tonight.” Ororo offered.

“No, everything is under control” Charles planned to keep a psychic ear out for any trouble with their guest just in case. “Good work you two, have a good night.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 

John sat on the exam table with his shirt off feeling cold and uncomfortable. The doctor lady took his temperature and his blood pressure and wrote some things down. 

“Does your body temperature usually run hot?” Jean didn't have any medical records for her patient so she hoped to get some sort of base from him. 

He raised his eyebrows at her question and shook his head and shrugged his shoulders indicating to her that he didn't know. 

“That's alright, sometimes mutations change the person's body temperature and I just wondered since Scott and Ororo say your's deals with fire if your temperature is effected. You're warm but depending on your normal temperature it might be nothing or slightly elevated.” or he could be burning up. “but we'll see.” Jean decided to be cautious but since he seemed lucid she wouldn't be alarmed. 

She took out a stethoscope next continuing the exam she pressed it to his back having him breath in while she listened to his lungs and then listened at the front. She took some notes. “Have you ever been in the hospital for anything serious before?” 

He nodded his head. “What were you treated for?” She looked over her glasses at him. 

He swallowed hard and coughed looking down at his clasped hands as he spoke softly. “Head injury and smoke inhalation.” The cops and the social workers had taken him to the hospital after the fire at the Millers. 

“Any concussion?” She asked matter of factly. John was grateful she didn't seem interested in the circumstances. 

“Mild” The doctors had said it was mild John wasn't so sure he'd describe it that way, he hadn't been able to keep any food down for a week and couldn't see straight for a month. 

“When was this?”

“Two years ago.”

“Alright. Can I take a look at your ankle?” 

He pulled up his pant leg and she slid her chair over and took his shoe off. The ankle had a little bit of bruising and some swelling. She felt and prodded in different strategic places, moved his foot forwards and backward, side to side and watched for his reactions. He grimaced and made a face a couple of times. She made some notes.

“How did you hurt your ankle?”

“I was running from your friends earlier and stepped off the curb funny but that was just today I hurt it a few weeks ago.”

“What happened then?” 

“I was...I... I twisted it and there was a popping feeling and it swelled up for a few days.” Jean knew there was more to his story that he wasn't telling She was curious about these incidents but she didn't want to push him and she didn't need the details. 

“Did you do anything for it? Ice it or take anything?”

“No. Are you a mutant?” John watches her mouth as she answers wanting to make sure he understands what she says next. 

“I am” Jean holds her pen out and makes it levitate “I'm telekinetic and a telepath.” 

John watches the pen float until she takes it back in her hand. He can't help but be amazed about being around other mutants like this. The excitement is a new feeling for him. 

“Alright here's what we need to do now. I'm going to take a blood sample and then a couple x-rays of your chest and ankle.” She can tell he's tired but she really feels like they need to get him situated so he can start feeling better. “I'll try and be quick about it.” 

She is quick. John is happy that when she puts the needle in to draw the blood he barely feels it and to take the x-rays he doesn't have to go anywhere she is able to bring their fancy x-ray camera to him. He just had to stay extra still while she takes the pictures. 

Normally holding still might have been difficult for John especially in an new and odd situation but he's so tired that tonight it doesn't pose a problem. 

“Very good we've got that, do you feel up to getting washed?”

“Yes” 

“I'll grab you a towel and a change of clothes.” She came back with some things for him and she noticed rather than taking his shoes off he'd put the one that was off back on as well as his shirt. “Ok I could, hum I can get the wheelchair.” she started but saw the distaste on his face. “Ok tough guy, I'm gonna help you over to the bathroom and then you can take it from there, try not to put much weight on that ankle.”

John wasn't sure he liked this idea, he'd walked in here fine he didn't see the need for her to help him to the bathroom. But he complied, only cringing slightly when her hand lightly touched his side. The sensation of the light touch made his skin crawl. 

Jean noticed he was uncomfortable and wondered if she should re-think her approach but they were already moving so she just moved with him as steadily as she could. 

Jean holds him by the arm and around the waist to give him some support with a little bit of telekinesis to help keep the weight off his ankle while they still didn't the the extent of the damage. 

She gets him to the bathroom and then gives him some privacy. She can hear the water running from the other side of the shut door so she set to work. She starts testing a few samples of his blood. Checking his iron and vitamins, his white blood count and so on. 

He was very thin and she knows the tests will show some deficiencies it was written in his coloring, his dry mouth, and the dark circles under his eyes. Once the test were set up Jean went to check the x-rays, she examines all of them and is not surprised by what she finds.

John was tired but the hot water feels so good he doesn't want to get out. The act of actually scrubbing feels like too much to do as worn out as he is but letting the water stream over him is as good as the pizza if not better. 

He does what he can till he is too tired to do anymore.

He turns off the water and does his best to dry off and then slip on the clothing that the doctor had given him. 

When he opens the bathroom door he sees the doctor standing next to the bed where she had had him leave his bag. He panics when he sees her so close to his stuff. He had forgotten about it in his eagerness to get to the shower and now he was upset.


	20. Chapter 20

Jean sees her patient standing at the bathroom door and moves to help him over to the bed. As she gets closer she can see he has a look of distress on his face. She moves quickly to his side which does not seem to alleviate the look of his distress on his face. 

“Are you alright, are you in pain?” Jean asks as she looks him up and down. 

John looks at her and back at his stuff. His things didn't seem to be disturbed and now that the doctor isn't blocking his path to his bag he feels himself relax slightly. He breathes in and pushes the panic back. 

“Come on lets get you settled.” Jean takes only his arm this time instead of taking him around the waist and he doesn't cringe like he did before. 

She notices that he has his shoes back on and seems to have put on the clean t-shirt and sweat pants she'd given him but has his old hoodie on. His dirty old hoodie. 

She hadn't thought to find a sweatshirt for him but she was pretty sure they have one she could give him. She'd have to look around. 

She'd need him to take the hoodie off tonight so maybe she could have his washed and back to him by tomorrow.

They make it to the bed that she had set up for him. “I'll take those for you.” She holds out her hands for his old clothes. He hesitates but gives them up. “Your sweatshirt too.” she instructs.

John doesn't want to give her his sweatshirt. He wears his sweatshirt all the time now. He doesn't like not wearing it, he feels exposed without it. 

“We'll have it washed, you'll get it back.” Jean waited for him to comply. 

After a long drawn out silence he finally unzips it and shrugs it off putting it on top of the pile of clothes with a sigh. 

Jean takes his old clothes and sets them aside. She then goes to wash her hands and put gloves on.

“The verdict is in.” She says jokingly. He doesn't look like he finds it funny. “You're gonna need to take your shoes off and lay back on the bed. 

John doesn't want to take his shoes off. He'd already given up his hoodie. He feels exposed and cold, a chill runs through him and he rubs at his bare arms. 

One thing that she won't take from him if John has has his way is take his lighter from him. The sweatpants she gave him have pockets. His lighter is tucked inside his right pocket. He's trying his best to be careful about not fidgeting with it and keeping it away out of sight. 

He takes his shoes off, places them under the chair his bag is on and lays down on the bed. 

It feels so good to be lying down on a bed that tears of exhaustion and relief started to well in his eyes. He brushes them away and hopes that the doctor didn't see. He was fourteen after all. 

Jean comes over with a cart. “I'm going to start an IV.” He blinks at her and bites his lip. 

She take his arm and goes to work getting the needle in, taping it down and hooking up the tube. “So you're going to get fluids for dehydration and antibiotics for pneumonia.” 

He watches as she sets the bag on a stand above his head and the liquid in it begin to run down the tube.

“Now you should take these.” She hands him two pills and a cup with water. “They're for the swelling, pain and what I believe is probably a slight fever.” Based on the tests and her observations of his symptoms he must have a raised core body temperature so his temperature which might put one person in a delirious state was only causing him some discomfort. 

He takes the pills and hands her back the cup. “Good. Now after looking at the x-rays I believe your ankle is sprained. It's going to take some time to heal, a few weeks usually, since you weren't able to rest it after the first time it was injured I think it might take longer to get back to normal and we should keep an eye on it to see if therapy is needed. Lets get it propped up for tonight, elevating it will help with the swelling.” Jean grabbed a big pillow and guided his foot up onto it. “Tomorrow I'll give you a splint you should wear for a few weeks while it heals.” 

She knew that all of what she'd said and the fact they he hasn't had proper nutrition meant the injury and probably his pneumonia was going to take a little while longer to heal than it would normally. 

Jean grabs a soft ice pack from her cart. “I'm gonna put this on your ankle for about ten minutes. Does it feel alright, not too cold?” John nods. 

“I'll come back and take it off so don't worry about it just try to get some sleep.” Jean dims the lights in the room and pulls a curtain around to give him some privacy. 

Ten minutes later Jean returns to remove the ice pack and finds a very tired but still very awake patient. 

She speaks softly to him “are you doing alright?” 

John debates what he should tell her. He doesn't feel alright he feels torn apart and wonders when he 'll feel good again. Before he can get any words out of his mouth she speaks in a tone that no one had ever used with him before. Her voice is soft and kind and caring, he doesn't know how to feel about that. 

“You'll feel better soon sweetie. Just try to relax.” 

John blinks at her. He is too tired to more than wonder if she'd just read his mind. 

“Can't sleep it's too open.” He says louder than he means to. He feels out of sorts here, the bed is too soft, it's too quiet and he doesn't have his hoodie on. 

“I'm sorry there's not a whole lot I can do about that tonight.” 

“Usually sleep against a wall.” He laments sleepily, his voice is softer this time, he tries to match her volume. 

“Oh...” Jean looks around and considers the options. She wants to do what she can if it will help him. “I'll move you.” 

John watches as she puts her hands up and slowly the bed he's in glides out from where it had been with the headboard against the wall. The doctor turns it so the side of the bed will be against the wall and then she moves it carefully back all without touching it. 

“Better?” 

It was a more comfortable set up for him, he couldn't maneuver his back to the wall with his foot propped up and the IV in his arm but now he could touch the wall with his right hand and know that it was there and that was something. 

“Yes thanks” 

Jean re-situated his blanket and noticed before she turned to leave that he was very much asleep. 

He was exhausted and he slept like it. The few times during the night that Jean had checks on him he has barely moved. In the morning Jean gets up bright and early and ready to start the day but John is still sleeping soundly and he continues to for most of the morning. 

Storm comes down after her first class of the day to see Jean and check in on John. “How's the patient?” She asks cheerily.

“Still out like a light,” Jean glances over in his direction, she'd pulled the curtain back so she could keep an eye on him from her desk. He is still sleeping soundly.

“I see you've treated him.” Ororo comments as she takes notice of the IV. “will he be alright?”

“I think after some rest and some good food he'll get better fast.”

“Did you have an alright time with him? I suppose he was too tired to run by the time he got to you.”

“He was calm, I didn't have any problems. He had some difficulty getting to sleep and that's why the bed is moved. He said he like to sleep with his back to a wall.” 

“It seems to have worked.”

“Yes, I don't know when he'll wake up.” Jean looked at her watch “Hank said he'd be here to cover while I went to class but he must be held up.”

“I can stay here while you go to class.” 

“Could you? I'll be right back after class.”

“Yes certainly, I don't mind, my next class isn't until later this afternoon. There's nothing medical I'd have to do...” Ororo looks around at the lab equipment. 

“I've already administered his medication this morning.” Jean assures her. “If he wakes up and complains of pain he can have a couple advil nothing stronger, He shouldn't be walking around except to go to the bathroom just yet. The splint for his ankle is here...” 

Jean pointed and Storm nodded, she was familiar with the kind she'd spent some time in medical as a patient herself over the years. “and he should eat breakfast, oatmeal would be good if he likes that or cereal and some fruit.” Jean grabbed her bag. “The way it's looking he'll sleep all morning and I'll be back when he wakes up.” she chuckled, she knew quite well how teenagers could sleep on the best of days.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the infirmary, breakfast and Lunch, Kitty and Bobby

St John sleeps soundly for the next half an hour while Storm grades papers. When she hears a noise coming from his direction she isn't sure what it is and she gets up and checks on him. 

Standing a few feet away from the sleeping teen Storm can see now he is mumbling in his sleep. She can't make out what he's saying but when he whimpers softly with his eyes squeezed shut she can tell he is obviously upset. 

She moves closer and cautiously puts a hand on his shoulder trying to be comforting but in his sleep he jerks away from her touch. She remembered him jerking like that when she woke him up in the car the night before. She didn't try touching him again. 

“You're ok St John, just relax.” She speaks calmly, her hand resting on the pillow next to his head, he seems to settle and quiet down.

“How is the patient?” Storm turns around to see Hank Mccoy standing in the infirmary looking like he was running late. 

Storm steps away from St John's bedside and joins Hank by the desks. “He's been sleeping all morning, just a minute ago he seemed to get a little agitated but he's settled down now” 

“I'm sorry I'm late,” Hank apologized as he set his armful of files and books on his desk. “I did get some information from Charles and Jean, he's a runaway right?”

“Yes but we aren't sure yet from where or who, he was on the streets awhile and he doesn't necessarily want to be here.” 

“Oh well, I'm sure we'll win him over yet.” Storm appreciates Hank's optimism and smiles at the thought but doesn't truly believe it. 

“Will you be heading back to your office now?”

“I think I'll stay for a while longer if you don't mind.”

“Of course you're welcome to.”

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Professor Xavier ends his class and dismisses his students. He stops Kitty before she heads out the door.

“Oh Miss Pryde could you run an errand for us?”

“Sure Professor what do you need?” Kitty smiles, she's always happy to do a favor for the Professor.

“There's been a tray prepared in the kitchen that is for a young man down in medical could you take it down please?”

“Sure I can do that.” Kitty agreed, she liked to be helpful and she and the other children had heard that Storm and Scott had brought back a kid the night before. They were all curious. Kitty practically skipped to the cafeteria she was excited that she would be the first in her class to meet the new kid. 

Kitty grabs the tray that the Kitchen Staff had made up and takes the oatmeal, juice, milk, banana and yogurt downstairs. 

Dr. Mccoy and Ms. Monroe are there when Kitty get there. “The Professor sent me down with breakfast.” She informs them. 

“Thank you Kitty bring it over this way I'll introduce you.” Storm has a feeling the Professor sent Kitty down for more than to just deliver breakfast. 

Kitty follows Ms. Monroe over to the bedside of the new boy. He is sitting propped up in the bed his head laid back on the pillows, he's taping his fingers on his thumbs. Kitty's first thought is he must be bored. 

Storm rolls a table over to the bed. “S... John, this is Kitty Pryde she's brought you breakfast.” 

Kitty slides the tray onto the table in front of John as he nods his head and sort of turns his head in her direction but doesn't take his eyes off the food. 

He dug straight into the oatmeal without caution as to it's temperature. 

“Kitty is one of our best students here.” Ms. Monroe commented and Kitty blushes. She thinks John looks sort of cute or he might be if he wasn't so pale and tired looking. “John will have to wait for Dr. Grey to give him the go ahead but when he gets out of the infirmary here we'll have to show him all the neat things here at the mansion Kitty.” 

Kitty smiles and nods enthusiasticly. “What's your favorite subject? Mine's computers! We've got a lab with some neat stuff and a great library...” Kitty trails off as she notices he doesn't seem to be paying any attention to her all his attention is on his breakfast. “and a kitchen which I think you'll like a lot.” She laughs uncomfortably as he eats another mouthful of oatmeal like he hasn't eaten in a month. 

Ms. Monroe picks up the milk carton from John's tray with the intent to open it for him like she often did for the younger students and the boys eye's got wide as he protests with his mouth half full. “Hey!” 

John wasn't sure what she was doing only that she'd taken something that was given to him. 

“I'm only opening it.” she exclaims calmly as she did so and replaces the milk on his tray. He cuts his eyes at her and then at Kitty before getting back to his tray. He opens his own carton of juice just so she won't touch it. 

He feels uncomfortable with them hovering, he doesn't know what they expect from him. He really just wants to eat what they'd given him and sleep some more and get out of this place.

Storm is trying to think up some topic of conversation that would get John and Kitty talking but she doesn't know a whole lot about John. He didn't seem that interested in talking about school and Storm didn't think bringing up his life on the streets would be appropriate conversation. 

Luckily Kitty was trying, bless her. “So what are you in for?” Kitty asks trying to be funny.

John stops chewing and looks at her. He tries to decipher her meaning. He doesn't feel a hundred percent yet even after the pretty good sleep he'd gotten, his brain seems kind of fuzzy today.

'what was he in the building for?' 

The term as he'd heard it used in the past was used by prisoner was she implying he was a prisoner here? 

Did she mean 'in for next?' asking about what he'd be doing after breakfast? 

When he can't reason out what she meant he asks. “In for?” He quirks an eyebrow in her direction. 

“Yeah...” She starts, John had apparently missed what she was trying to ask or he thought her joke was lame. 

She looks to Ms. Monroe for support but the older woman is turned back towards Dr. Mccoy leaving Kitty to figure it out for herself. 

“You know 'you're in' the infirmary, so what are you in for?” Kitty tries hard to be polite but his expression is puzzling her, she can't tell what he's thinking.

“For medicine.” He says with a quizzical look on his face. Kitty takes his tone and look as sarcastic and feels he must be making fun of her. 

“Well I hope your medicine works.” her words are clipped as she turns and walks away from him. 

When her tone changes and she seems to get very serious John isn't sure what had happened. What he did know was that at least she isn't standing there awkwardly as he ate anymore. 

_________________________________________________________________________________

By lunch time all the students had heard about Kitty's encounter in the infirmary with the boy who had apparently been raised by wolves. 

The faculty wouldn't say much about the boy. 

At lunch time Bobby was sent down to medical with a lunch tray for the wolf boy and some comic books and a rubix cube from the common room. 

Dr. Grey greets him and Bobby starts to hand the tray to her. “Why don't you bring it over to John for me.” She instructs.

“I...I don't...” Bobby looks over at the curtained off bed area where the boy must be. Bobby is curious to see him but also nervous, from what kitty said he wasn't very nice. 

Dr. Grey doesn't seem too concerned about Bobby's hesitation. “Come on I'll introduce you.” She smiles at him and Bobby nods he wants to be helpful even if he was a bit hesitant. 

Dr. Grey moves around the curtain and starts talking to her patient, Bobby follows behind her his eyes wide in anticipation with what he would find. 

What he finds propped up in the infirmary bed is not the crazy exaggeration of a wolf mutant raised in the wild but a skinny kid his age or a little younger maybe who really looks like he needs the sandwich Bobby is bringing him. 

“John this is Bobby he's brought you some lunch.” Dr. Grey introduces the bringer of food. John is busy writing on some paper that the doctor had given him earlier and he gets irritated when the tray is slid onto the table in front of him as he is attempting to finish writing a thought. 

He looks over to find the source of the tray and found the boy Dr. Grey was talking about, a blond hair blue eyed kid who looks like he doesn't have a care in the world smiling at him like he's his new best friend. John doesn't feel like smiling back. 

“What are you writing?” The boy asks in tone that grates on John's nerves.

“Stuff.” John offers. 

It was just stuff, some thoughts and little scraps of stories, nothing he wanted to talk about. John collects his papers and moves them off the table and down to his side, the side furthest from the boy and the doctor. 

“Well that's cool, I never liked writing much myself. I like reading I guess. We're reading the Adventures of Huck Finn for literature class now. Have you ever read that book?” 

John opens his milk first and then unwraps the sandwich that was sent down for him. He'd been given chocolate milk, a double decker peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a bag of chips, an apple and a brownie. 

It is so much food he doesn't think he can eat it all after already eating so much for breakfast. He takes the bag of chips off the tray and sticks them under the blanket on the bed safe for later.

Dr. Grey watches as St John prepares to eat lunch and squirrels away the chips. It was something she'd seen other children do, the ones that were runaways or from rough homes, the ones who didn't know when they'd get their next meal. It always makes her heart break a little. 

Bobby keeps on talking and John wonders how long the kid could keep going. Bobby went right on.

“I'm getting through the book but sometimes I just can't make it to the end of the really long books that the Professor assigns. I really prefer to read comics they're short with lots of action. Do you read any comics? I brought some down for you to read I hope you like superman he's my favorite.”

“Batman.” John says with a mouth full of apple. 

“Huh?” Bobby's a little surprised that his nervous rambling is interrupted. 

“Batman's better.” John insists.

“I always liked Superman He's got super strength and can stop a bullet.” Bobby points out. 

“Batman is a better character there's not enough conflict in Superman he's a good guy doing good stuff, he can barely be hurt if at all, you know he's going to get the bad guy no mater what but Batman is just a guy. He's a guy who makes mistakes, he's conflicted about what he wants to do and at the end of the day he's not a super hero he's a messed up dude who tries and sometimes fails. That's a way better story then Clark Kent.”

“But Superman he's like us with powers.” Bobby argues. 

“Not all of us are heroes made of steel.” A bit of bitterness slips into John's voice.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Professor visits the Infirmary

The Professor enters the infirmary and Jean greets him.

“How is our young guest today?” The professor asks in a low voice not wanting to disturb. 

“He's well. He's been quiet the loudest he's gotten so far is when he had a coughing fit about an hour ago. 

“And your prognosis?”

“Good, He needs to rest for now he's got walking pneumonia and I've got him on antibiotics for that, he's temperature is warm still but less warm than last night so it might just be his physiology and not a fever. He's going to have to take it easy on his ankle for a few weeks while his sprained ankle heals. But he should be much better soon.”

“Very good, I'm glad to hear it.”

Jean is quiet for a moment prompting Charles to ask “Is there something more you wish to tell me?”

Jean nodded and spoke her next words telepathically. “He's got a lot of scars I would say that some of them at least were not accidental injuries. There are lots of burns some that look like cigarette burns. I just... he said last night he was in the hospital a couple years ago with a concussion but didn't say how he got it. I just wonder what kind of home he was running away from is all.”

“We knew he was in trouble when Storm and Scott went to get him, we will certainly try and help him in anyway we can. What have you learned anything about him?”

“Well, he prefers to sleep with his back to the wall and to wear hoodies, he likes to write and isn't particularly social, maybe because he's not feeling well but I don't know. The only conversation he's really had today was with Bobby and then I don't know if I'd call it a conversation he practically lectured about how Batman was a better character than Superman. I think he didn't win Bobby over with that, oh and apparently he was able to irritated Kitty, Kitty who is always so patient and happy to know everyone.”

“Ahhh, so that's they're talking about the wolf boy in the infirmary.”

“Wolf boy?” Jean doesn't think John resembles a wolf or even a werewolf soo why? 

“I think as in raised by wolves.” 

“ooohhhh, well I'll have to have a talk with them about patience and understanding.” 

___________________________________________________________________________________

John lays on his bed sinking back into the softest pillows he's ever put his head on, the paper and pen he was lent are stashed under his pillow, the bag of chips he's saving are under the blanket and the comic books are at the end of the bed. 

He is trying not to move around to much so he doesn't knock his IV. John could probably fall asleep if he tried but there is a little too much going on around him. There are beeping machines, clacking keyboards, humming lights, squeaky desk chairs and vents blowing.

He lays full, tired, with a slight headache, flipping the Rubix cube that the boy brought him earlier. He spins one row around and around. He likes the rough turn it makes and the sound is distracting him from the sounds of the infirmary.

The action is also distracting him from the feeling that he was uncomfortable in a strange place with strange people, including a blue furry guy who apparently is a doctor. He doesn't like that he's still hooked up to an IV and he can't really move without help.

He absently spins the cube and doesn't realize anyone had come to his bedside until a voice surprises him. 

“Good afternoon St John how are you feeling?” 

John looked up to see the Professor from the night before at his bedside. He cringes at the question, it's one he dislikes a lot. How was he feeling? No one really wants to know anyways, right? “fine.”

John thinks it is interesting that the man is called Professor, that is what the people in the infirmary have all called him, John doesn't think he's ever heard of anyone being called professor before. John thinks it's not a bad sounding title. He wonders what the Professor teaches. John wonders if he could be a professor someday. 'you have to go to school for that dummy and you've not been in school for over a year now.'

John's brain goes on a tangent and he keeps turning the Rubix cube. “The object of that game is to get the colors all on their respective sides.”

“I know.” John really isn't interested in playing the game he just wants to spin the rows. 

“I heard that you met some of our students today. Kitty and Bobby are two of our best students. You would have classes with them if you stayed here.”

John tenses a bit at the mention of staying. He has flashes of school and the Millers and the state home and all sorts of things that went wrong when he's 'stayed' somewhere in the past.

Charles is trying not to be intrusive but he is trying to get a feel for the tight lipped boy. He could readily sense the tension and disappointment that the boy was feeling he had obviously been let down in the past. 

Charles was also getting a better sense for how the boy's brain worked. He had seen many different minds in his many years of being telepathic. Each brain is unique but there does seem to be a few categories people's brains seemed to fit in. Differences in processing and recalling information define the major brain categories Charles could identify. 

St John seemed to have a distinct way of processing the world around him. Put that together with some of the behaviors Charles was seeing in the boy and it was confirming his suspicion from the night before and the reason why Scott thought there was something off with the boy. It isn't that he's 'off' it's just that he's a little different to many of their students (not all.) 

Charles needs a little more time and a little more knowledge of St John's history to be able to make the determination.

John shook his hand to expel the tension that was building up in him. The shaking is a release and John is able to refocus on the Professor.

Before he has a chance to ask the question that pops into his head the professor is answering it. “Yes, I am a mutant St John. I'm a telepath. Yes I am projecting my voice into your head. Yes I can read your mind. No I am not trying to read your thoughts, some come out to me as if you've asked them aloud. I don't go snooping, I do ask permission for such things. Yes I can control people through their minds.”

John isn't sure what to think but he can see the potential of mind control. “No I won't make Dr. Mccoy hit himself in the face. Yes I can do it from a great distance especially if I do it from my machine cerebro, which amplify my telepathic power. Cerebro is actually how we found you. It's how I found many of the students here, the powerful who need training, the troubled who need guidance, and those who need shelter.” and the Professor thought 'those like St John who need all three.'

“So you found me?” John asked aloud. “You...you saw me?” John's heart rate picked up. It was bizarre to think someone was watching him without him knowing it. “When?”

“I saw you for the first time a little over two weeks ago. I was pulled towards your extreme distress.” Charles had been in the right place at the right time to see the young fire mutant in danger believing he was running for his life, but he'd been unable to pin down the boy's location. “Sadly it took time to determine where you were.” 

He'd memorized the boy's distinct energy signature and was able to find him each subsequent time he entered cerebro. He had been worried but unable to do anything for the boy. Eventually he got a good mental image of him, then a name and finally a location. 

John thought back over the past few weeks, after escaping from the church he'd made his way back to the warehouse. He'd known it probably wasn't a good idea, but it was familiar and he was too hurt too hungry and too mixed up to figure something else out. 

In fact as he sat there under a table rocking to distract from the throbbing in his ankle he'd thought he was going crazy when he kept hearing things. 'Who are you?' 'Where are you?' 

He had been too wiped out to find the answers at first. His brain had been fuzzy and couldn't pin down the answers. 

Eventually the voice came and told him things like 'you need to eat.' 'you need to sleep.' 

“You were in my head.” John stated suddenly looking straight at Charles. Charles met the boy's gaze and tries to look reassuring. 

“Only so we could help you.” 

John thought about how He didn't know what to make of it, the voice, at the time. He was trying hard to put himself back to together, and he'd thought he was going crazy. He'd eventually found it so unsettling that the flames he was trying to take comfort in got away from him and John was left to escape from another burning building. 

“I...I thought...after....” John starts to cough and can't catch his breath. The Professor offers him the glass of water that sat on the table by the bed. John takes it and drinks but can't seem to quit coughing. 

Jean comes around the curtain to see if there was anything she could do. She finds the Professor trying the comfort the boy and John looking fairly miserable. Jean and Charles share a look and suddenly the lights were being dimmed. 

John's coughing fit finally calms down and Charles smiles warmly at him. “Why don't you rest for now and we can talk again later, St John.” 

John doesn't say anything, his eyes raise up but don't they don't meet the Professor's or Jean's. He nods and he rubs his thumb across the squares of the cube. He wished he could get his lighter out of his pocket but he doesn't want to risk it. 

He's not ready to fully trust even if they are mutants. 

He wraps an arm around his chest and closes his eyes as the Professor and Dr. Grey leave him alone.

Away from the boy's beside Jean asks the Professor “How did your talk go?”

“I think it's a work in progress.” The Professor admits. He looks back towards St John's bed. He can sense the boy is sleeping now though not peacefully. He feels sorry that his actions may have upset the boy but hopefully now that he was here they could help him.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later after the conversation with the Professor. Jean and John talk and the next day Bobby comes back.

John sleeps the rest of the afternoon and Jean grades papers and goes over her lessons for tomorrow. 

Around 5:30 she starts to wonder if she'll have to wake up her resident patient for dinner. But by the time Scott begrudgingly delivers the prepared tray for John and asks her when she'll be finished in the lab John is awake. 

Jean sets the tray with chicken noodle soup on the bedside table and roles the table till it's positioned over the bed. 

John seems kind of groggy at first but starts to come around when the food is set in front of him. “Eat.” She instructs simply and leaves him to it. She pretends not to see him slip the crackers into his book bag which is now hanging precariously from the headboard. 

Jean returns a little while later and is pleased to see he's finished the soup and is examining one of the comic books Bobby brought down.

“How's pain in your ankle?” She asks as she levitates the finished tray away out of sight.

John watches still amazed. 

"Your ankle?" Jean prompts him. 

He thinks about his ankle. he can feel it throbbing a bit. He knows it'll be sore if he walks on it but not as painful as it was when he first sprained it or even as painful as it was last night. It wasn't great but it was “Fine." 

“Ok well, I know it's not totally fine." Jean calls him out. "I've got some pain pills for you and they should help with the inflammation." 

He takes the pills and swallows them dry, she hands him the class of water with a look and he does take a sip. 

"I'm going to check your temperature now." She holds up the thermometer that she kept sticking in his ear every other hour. Jean takes his temperature. After the thermometer beeps she makes a note. “It's holding steady at 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Better than last night, up a bit from this morning. It's probably just your body fighting the pneumonia.” 

John watches her hands as she talks. “So you were in Philadelphia right?" Jean puts her thermometer in her pocket. "Did you ever see the Liberty Bell?”

John nods, he had. “Class field trip in the fourth grade.” He vaguely remembers the trip, it had been during a time he was staying at the state home. He remembers feeling lonely on that trip. 

He had been excited he was able to go being a ward of the state meant he didn't get permission to do many things because of money and time. 

It had been exciting at the time to go someplace new at the time and he liked history. They had been studying the revolutionary war in school he thought it would be so interesting to see something he'd read about in person. 

They day was not as much fun as he had imagined. They'd had to be in groups and stay in their groups and he didn't really know or like anyone in his group. He was in a group that had a teacher as the chaperon instead of one of the student's parents probably because his group was the difficult kids. 

They were all the kids that got sent to the principle's office for being disruptive and for back talking, at the time he was only sent to the principle’s office when he didn't speak when spoken to and if he got extra frustrated about something like not understanding an assignment and he had what the teachers called 'a fit.'

He'd been excited but then he'd gotten pestered by his group mates and put some distance between him and them, then he'd gotten lost and didn't know where his group was and he was scared about getting in trouble for wondering off. He shudders at the memory.

"Are you aright?" Jean sees him shake. "Are you having chills?" 

"What?" John realizes what that he must have done something the doctor could see when his memory overwhelmed him. "No, no."

"Are you sure you're not cold or something, you were shaking."

"It was nothing." Jean looks at him and wonders what he's not telling her. 

"So you saw the Liberty Bell but it didn't make a big impression. I suppose it is just a big bell with a crack in it." Jean pulls up a chair to John's bed side and she interprets his expression falling as him not feeling well especially when he starts coughing. 

John honestly isn't excited to have company.

“So what subject did you like best in school? I always like math and science. Math always came easily to me and science was always really interesting...” Jean keeps talking and John isn't sure if he's suppose to answer her question or when. He settles for half listening cause he doesn't want to let his guard down fully. “We offer classes in geography, ethics, physiology, political science, art, computers, shop. Most students find at least an elective they're interested in here.”

John sighed he might like taking classes here, maybe. He liked learning things.

John is thinking about what he might like to take when he realizes that Dr. Grey has stopped talking. 

“History.” John says trying to answer the question she originally asked him. 

“What?” Jean asks. “Oh, you like history? We offer lots of different history class. I always liked Renaissance history. Did you play any sports?” This time she stops and John waits to see if she's going to say anything else. 

“No.” John starts and wonders how much he wants to say. “hum, there wasn't time for, hum, sports and stuff. I had to be on the bus back to the home right after school so I never had a ride anyway I was never very good at sports anyway.” 

Jean hears a note in his voice that makes her sad. She wonders what 'the home' means. She decides not to ask because it's getting late and she doesn't want to get into a conversation that might be upsetting for him.

“We have lots of other activities clubs and game nights and field trips to the movies and the ball park.” 

John coughs some and groaned. Jean hands him the glass of water again and observes how tired he looks. “How about you just get some more rest, there will be time to talk about clubs and classes tomorrow.” 

John agrees he could do without that conversation right now.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning John wakes up feeling unrested. There were too many things running around his head the night before. Mutants and Mutant haters and him being picked apart by both.

Having breakfast had made him feel a little better but he still felt tired and stretched and like his brain would burn if he tried to focus on anything too long.

Words were harder to form today than yesterday and making eye contact seemed like more work.

He feels like sleeping but it's too soon to go back to sheep and would probably be awkward with the doctors watching him closely.

He tried reading but concentrating on the words and the pictures and making sense of the story in the comic books was just not working today. He couldn't even put pen to paper comfortably this morning, everything felt off. 

He hated days like this, it was so annoying when for some unknown to him reason he could just barely function. Maybe he was really sick all these years, maybe the doctors could diagnose him if he told them about it. He really didn't feel like having that conversation though.

John lays on his bed feeling blah rolling the Rubix cube end to end lazily around the bed sheet next to him. 

He could hear someone enter the medical lab apparently with food from the greeting the blue doctor gave. 

John was very thankful that food was coming to him and he wasn't having to find it himself. Often on days where he felt like this he just went without food. Even before he ran away the act of getting something was too much on a day like today. 

“Gosh you must be bored!” John cringes as the boy from yesterday, Bobby, comes to his beside and talks too loudly. 

“I would be soooo bored if I were laying in bed all day without a TV or anything. Did you finish the comics I brought you I could bring you more after my afternoon classes, if you'd like.”

Bobby put the food in front of John and continued talking, “I think Piotr has some Spiderman issues he'd let you borrow.” 

John fought with the plastic wrap that the sandwich was wrapped in but finally ripped it off and tossed it aside. He was about to put the bag of chips in his book bag but Bobby kept talking.

“Have you ever put potato chips on your sandwich? If you haven't you should try it, I think it's really good on turkey sandwiches and like boloney and cheese. It makes it crunchy.” 

John scrunches up his nose at the thought of putting chips in his sandwich. “that's gross.” 

“It's totally not gross.” 

“Whatever you say.” John goes back to what he's doing. 

Bobby is quiet for a second and then “So you control fire?” 

John nearly chokes on the milk he's just taken a drink of. 

“Yeah, how did you...” John coughs and tries to clear his throat.

“Someone heard the teachers talking and yeah everyone's been talking.” 'everyone?' John wonders how many is everyone. “That's a cool mutation.”

John agrees and for the first time in a lone time he has the urge to talk, the urge to tell this kid just how cool it is. How he loved controlling the fire and watching the flames. How there is nothing like holding a writhing flame in your hand. How he loves the heat. How he could make the fire consume and with concentration stop it from consuming holding it back like controlling a hungry wolf. How it was calming and exciting all at once. 

He doesn't say anything though. That would be saying too much and apparently 'everyone' already knew more then he'd probably like them too. “Yeah, it's cool.”

“So can you make a flame like right here, right now?” Bobby asks innocently. John narrows his eyes wondering why Bobby asked that.

“No I control it, I don't create.”

“So what you have to have like matches with you all the time?” John chooses to take a bite of his sandwich rather than answer. 

When John doesn't say anything Bobby keeps talking. “I can create ice. It would be funny if I had to carry ice with me like I'll have to carry a cooler around with me and that would look super ridiculous. Talk about a dumb mutation.”

John swallows and blinks at Bobby, he doesn't know exactly what the point of Bobby's rambling was but it felt like he just called his mutation dumb. 

“Well what good is being able to make ice?” He said trying not to sound hurt. John snapped back. “I guess you're good to have around if the ice maker breaks but what else?” 

“Hey! What? Yeah well I can freeze stuff and cool stuff off and I don't know... it's better than the kid who can curl his hair with a thought, that's a pretty lame mutation” 

Bobby laughed and John was surprised. Usually if he'd said something snarky to the boys at the home he'd get screamed at or punched or something, this kid just seemed to brush it off. 

“That's nice don't you have a class or something you need to get to Ice Cube?” 

“Yeah I guess. Hey I'll try see if I can bring you anymore stuff to read later.”

“Hum yeah thanks.” John chewed slowly and with effort as Bobby left. The conversation played over and over in his head as he analyzed everything and filed the encounter away for future reference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Should be The Professor and Storm. I'm trying to get John ready to tour the school and make his decision about whether to stay. Thank you for reading


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no one is perfect not even Charles Xavier but he tries and his heart is in the right place

Later that afternoon John hears the Professor come into the infirmary and he automatically tenses. 'What does he want?' Is the question that leaps to John's tired mind. 

He hadn't heard any voices in his head today but he remembers vividly hearing the voices in the warehouse and how they made him feel. The feeling comes back to him like he's experiencing it all over again. 

"Good afternoon John." The man speaks with his voice as he wheels over to John's bedside.

John nods warily in acknowledgement of the man's presence. John wishes he wasn't hooked up to the IV right now so he was free to get up and get away if he needed too. 

He could probably out maneuver the man in the wheelchair unless the man did some kind of telepathic junk on him. 

Charles smiles sadly as the boy plots his escape. John was a fighter and he respected that. What Charles needed to figure out was how to put the boy at ease. 

Charles is sincerely sorry for alarming the boy, it had been a miscalculation in what seemed like a dire situation. "I'm sorry that we got off on the wrong foot yesterday." 

John narrows his eyes at the man and works to decipher the man's statement. 

He had a feeling the Professor was talking about the bad ending to their conversation yesterday. He was 'sorry'? 

Sorry. 'Did he mean it?' Adults, really, people in general had rarely expressed being sorry about something they'd done to John. Which made him wonder how genuine the apology was and the way he said it didn't help. 

'Sorry they got off on the wrong foot.' What did that mean exactly? 'wrong, wrong, wrong' 

'Wrong' was the Professor being in his mind as far as John was concerned. Without explanation or permission. That was so wrong. It had nothing to do with feet or foot or anything like that. 

John knows it's an expression. He reminds himself that he's read it and heard it before. 

'Off on the wrong foot' means being wrong? Maybe it means being sloppy? No no they weren't being sloppy yesterday.' 

'Could the expression be related to the wrong side of the bed that people would get up on? Getting up on the wrong side of the bed meant you're being grumpy. If you got up on the wrong side of the bed would you get off on the wrong foot?'

'One of the workers at the boys home had liked to say 'get on the good foot' that expression confused him. How could a foot be good unless one was bad. Like John did have a bad ankle right now so that would make his left foot bad but not wrong...' 

John's thoughts ran a mile a minute.

Charles enjoyed the mental gymnastics the boy was performing. The boy's expression had gotten a bit distant but he was far from unengaged. 

There was a time when this kind of thinking might have surprised a young Charles and back then he might have told the boy to relax that he was thinking too much and reading to much into things but experience and exposure had taught him that some brains process many thoughts and make connections easier than others, sometimes relating things very literally was how people understood things. 

"It is an expression John. 'Off on the wrong foot' means off to a bad start." Charles saw John think about stepping off the sidewalk curb onto his injured left leg and stumbling. 

"Yes the expression might come from stepping with an injured foot but the expression is so old it's hard to tell where it came from. You could always look it up on the internet if you are still curious, the internet has a wealth of knowledge about such things." 

"Did... Did you just read my mind?" John crossed his arms around himself in an unconscious effort to combat the how exposed he was feeling. 

"Technically I didn't read your mind in the sense that I went in and dug through I meanly over heard what you were thinking. I couldn't help it, you tend to think quite loudly." 

John is unsure about this explanation but imagines it's possible. He wondered what it would be like to hear other people's thoughts all the time. It could probably drive a person crazy. 'The Professor and Dr. Grey don't look crazy.'

Charles ignores the urge to agree with the boy's thought and moves on.

"Anyway the purpose of my visit today is to say I'm sorry about how things went while we were trying to find you and that I'm glad we did get you here. It is our intention to help you in any way that we can here at the Xavier school for gifted Mutants and I suppose I got overzealous when it looked like you were desperate. Would you like to talk about what happened to you? Sometimes it helps to talk about things.” 

'lots of things have happened to me Mister.' John's inner voice growled. Charles isn't surprises by the information. “What about most recently.” 

“There were people, they were nice at first... lots of people are nice at first.” John narrows his eyes and then cuts them in the Professor's direction. Charles can see flashes of people in the boy's mind, they were angry and yelling and there was fire and fear.

John flinched back as he remembers and relives the crazed church people screaming at him and then the Millers came to mind. John presses hit fists to his eyes to try and make the memories stop. 

“You're afraid and that's ok.” Charles sees other angry hateful people in John's mind. “You'll be safe from Mutant haters here, we can protect you.”

“How can a school do that?” 

“We are a school for young mutants we are also the base for a group of Mutants known as the X-men who's mission is to help and protect Mutant kind.”

“A group of Mutants?” John says with surprise. 

“Yes, those with Mutations that can be used in defense and rescues.”

John thought about how he was saved from being flattened by a truck. 

“Yes Scott and Ororo who found you are X-men so is Dr. Grey.”

“They fight?”

“Sometimes when the situation demands it.”

“Mutant haters?”

“Yes sometimes, though what we want first is to educate and work through things diplomatically.”

John hitched an eyebrow, some people you just couldn't be diplomatic with. 

“If you stay here you can train with your fire in our high tech and fire proof facilities and not worry about those who wish to do harm to Mutants.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

John watches the doctor as she moves around the lab tonight and wonders what kind of fighting she'd done.

He wonders if she would go out of her way to fight for him if he was in trouble. John grips the lighter in his pocket and thinks about the steam Mutant who'd tried to fight. 

John didn't want anyone to get hurt or die for him. 

John looks up and jumps when he sees the blue doctor next to him. Startled John's words tumble out of his mouth unchecked. “You'd think someone so big and blue couldn't sneak around like you do.”

Hank chuckles, it's actually the first full sentence the boy has said to him. “I didn't mean to startle you, I'm just here checking up on you. Do you need anything?” 

John shakes his head 'no'. “You're awfully quiet most of the time, not shy are you? I can assure you I don't bite.”

John wanted to sigh he'd heard the same thing over and over in his life, “Just thinking.” 

The doctor nodded his head knowingly “If it helps I've been with Charles Xavier since the beginning. I   
I know that he's made mistakes and he's fought with himself about how to best help other Mutants. Sometimes what works for one doesn't work for another. I can tell you that Charles and the X-men have helped lots of students and lots of Mutants through the years and if you stay they will do everything they can to help you too.”

John doesn't know if it helped. He's feeling a bit better and he knew that in the next couple days they would want his decision about staying. 

Would his promised safety be worth giving up what little control he had being on his own?

As the doctor left John yawns tiredly. He wishes he didn't have to think for a while.   
the pillow was uncomfortable tonight there was a tag in the pillow case that kept irritating his ear as John moved as close to the wall as he could get for the night. 

He is not awake much longer. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Storm comes down to the lab after dinner and finds Jean reading at her desk. 

“How are things going down here?”

Jean puts a bookmark in to hold her page. “pretty alright, the Professor was here earlier but after that it's been pretty quiet.”

“I heard that the meeting yesterday up set St John.” Storm spoke softly. 

“I think it might have thought the Professor didn't elaborate. I think today's meeting went better. At least John didn't seem to be upset by it.”

“Is he sleeping now?” Storm leans to see if she can see around the curtain that gives him a bit of privacy. 

“He is.” 

“It's early.”

Jean agreed he was asleep quite early but he'd seemed pretty tired all day, she wasn't going to worry too much yet. “I think it's because he's fighting the pneumonia and well he is a teenage boy.” 

Jean and Storm chuckled, they were surrounded at the school by lots of teenagers who loved to sleep.

“Did the Professor getting any further convince St John to stay.” 

“I think he's still not sure, he's been a bit tense and pensive sense the Professor left. Not that he's been really at ease and talkative otherwise.” 

“Has he said yet what's concerning him? All he said before he brought him was that there was too much here, but I don't know what exactly he meant by that.” 

“I tried to have a bit of a conversation with him about what classes and sports he liked. He didn't say much but what he did say seemed kind of sad and I didn't want to ask anything that might upset him.”

“I hope he chooses to stay. I wonder what we might do that he'd like.”

“I need to check with the laundress to see about his clothes. I think he'd like to have his hoodie back.”

“aaahhhh, Well I'll be at the laundry in the morning I could see about bringing his things down.” Storm wanted to help out if she could, she feels like he's a good kid and deserves a chance to better himself, it just seemed they needed to convince him of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one is perfect especially this author who is muddling through multiple character characterizations and plot. Thank you for reading, I'm so happy to be sharing this story with you. I have enjoyed writing it. I think that this should be a couple more chapters and then I have a sequel planned and some what written.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storm and Jean in a little something I had written and wanted to get up.

Storm enters the infirmary with an arm full of St John's washed clothes and a bag of chocolate donuts. She held out the bag to Hank and he grabbed one as she continued on her way to St John's bedside. 

She finds him awake doodling on some paper. He's making repetitive squiggly lines that Storm thinks resemble flames. 

“Good morning St John how are you today?” Storm put her arm load of folded clothes on the end of the bed and held the bag of donuts up with a smile on her face and set the bag on the rolling tray he was drawing on. 

John looks at her and at the donuts but doesn't take any. She didn't say they were for him or that he could have some so he chooses not to assume, to avoid any trouble. He's learned not to assume things the hard way in the past. 

“I've got your clothes back from the laundry everything's all clean and some things were mended and patched. You're socks seemed to be beyond repair so I'm afraid they were tossed but there's a replacement and if you choose to stay we can get you some more.” 

'Maybe if he did choose to leave they could send him off with a few things too.' Storm thinks. 

She'd definitely see about finding a winter coat for him, it was going to get cold very soon. “They sewed up the rip in the pocket seem of your sweatshirt here.” Storm held the garment up for St John to see. “Good as new.”

John eagerly took the sweatshirt from her. 

He held the hoodie close to his face the thick black material feels good in his hands, it has a good weight to it which was one of the things that he liked so much about this particular one, he's glad he still had it when he ran from the church. 

It was good that it was clean he appreciated that and that the pocket was fixed which was nice but as he held it a concern arouse. 

It smells strongly of whatever it had been cleaned with and he didn't really like it. He reminds himself that the smell would most likely fade after a while. But it still annoyed him and he narrowed his eyes at the shirt as if it had betrayed him. 

“Is it ok?” Storm asks. She could see that he seemed to be upset about something but she isn't quite sure what.

“Fine.” is all he says as he stuffs the sweatshirt between his pillow and the wall next to him.

Storm wasn't sure what to think. Jean had told her how reluctant he'd been to give up his sweatshirt. She had been sure he'd be excited to have it back. Then he hadn't touched the donuts she'd brought to share with him. Most of the kids here would tear up any chocolate donuts within arms reach of them. 'perhaps he didn't like chocolate.' Storm reasons. 

He looks at her waiting for her to say something else.

She looks at him trying to determine if she'd picked a bad time to visit. Then she decides to act, playing hostess. 

“Do you like chocolate?” She asks as she opens up the bag with a smile. She sees him nod his head as he practically stares wide eyed at the bag. 

Storm grabs a paper towel from near by, spreads it out on the tray and puts a handful of mini donuts down. “There you are.” 

John now looks from the large pile of donuts to her and back again. It's a lot of chocolate, he wonders if it's meant to be shared, but when she takes a donut from the bag and eats it, it seems to mean the ones on the tray were his. 

“I've got to go now, but I'll see you later, enjoy the donuts.” Storm packs up her bag.

“Thanks.” John says quietly, like he can't quite get the word all the way past his lips. When she'd out of sight he shoves one donut in his mouth and uses the paper towel to wrap up most of the others.

Storm stopped and spoke with Jean on her way out of the lab. “He didn't seem very happy about the sweatshirt. At first he looked excited about it but then his whole mood changed. I don't know what happened, maybe it reminded him of whatever danger he was in.”

“Maybe.” Jean looks thoughtfully in John's direction, today was his third day in the infirmary and she know's he's feeling better but he'd also been tense and getting antsy. 

_________________

Jean carried a towel and change of clothes including a plain blue hoodie and grey track pants over to her patient's bedside. 

“It time to remove the IV, you just need to promise that you'll drink lots of water and juice and eat the fruit and vegetables that you can, ok?” 

“Yeah sure.” John agreed in a non committed kind of way, while being here the food being brought to him on schedule had certainly been nice but if he left he really had no idea where or when he next meal would come. 

Jean removed the IV swiftly and taped a piece of gauze down to the puncture point to stop the bleeding. 

“If you're feeling up to it you can go shower.” Jean holds the towel and clothes out to him. John takes the things from her and slides off the bed. Without a word he grabs his own bag and makes his way into the bathroom.

John tests his ankle as he goes. The doctor has made him keep the splint on for even the short trip to the bathroom. John thinks it feels better than it did a couple days ago, walking shouldn't be a problem and he could run if he had to. 

Jean can sense that John is ready to leave. 

Jean knows that the school is the best place for the boy. hHe's made it by himself on the streets for a while but it hadn't been easy and it hadn't been safe. The next time something happened John might not be so lucky as to survive it. 

And what future could he possibly have if he want back out on the streets without schooling and without training with his mutation. John could end up in jail or worse sooner or later. 'But how to make him understand that?'

Jean watches to make sure he makes it to the bathroom alright and then returns to the paper's she's grading. She finds her self distracted and in need of talking with the Professor. She reaches out to her mentor and he responds to her telepathic link. “What's troubling you Jean?”

“John is feeling better and I think he's getting restless. I get the feeling he's still planning to leave. I think we need to work on convincing him to stay.”

“I agree.”

“I think maybe it's the right time to get him out of the infirmary and have him see some of the rest of the school.” 

_______________________

John turns the shower on but doesn't undress instead he takes advantage of the first long bit of privacy he's had in days. He sits on the bathroom floor and pulls out his lighter. 

John feels complete with his lighter in his hand. He runs his fingers over it to feel the painted shark and the smoothness of the metal. 

He flicks the lid open and enjoys the sound so much he opens and closes it a few more times. Before turning the ignition wheel. 

The flame jumps to life and John joyfully takes it into his hand. 

He sits on the floor and watches the flame in his hand. It moves and the orange and yellow colors swirl. He holds it with his hands in his lap and just watches it letting it occupy his thoughts and fill him up. 

He doesn't feel up to doing more than sustaining the flame. But that is enough for now. It fascinates him and he's missed it. 

Time passes, he doesn't realize it's been long until Dr. Grey is knocking on the door. “Is everything alright John?” 

John pulls himself up extinguishes the flame as he is surprised back into the present. “Fine, fine, it's fine. I'm getting a shower now.”

Jean could hear a scuffle in the room and she heard him finally get in the shower. She doesn't know what was the issue maybe she figures she might not want to know. She chuckled as she remembers some of the teenaged boys she went to school with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Bobby Shows John the School


	26. Chapter 26

Scott hadn't seen much of jean for the past couple of days. She'd spent lots of her time in the infirmary with the kid he and Storm had brought in. It wasn't uncommon for Jean to spend lots of time down in the infirmary especially if there was a student spending the night. So Scott wasn't surprised she was staying there but it didn't mean he liked it. 

So now he was coming up with reasons to be down where she was.

He took a grape off of the bunch on the lunch tray for the kid and popped it in his mouth as he walks the hallway to the medical lab. He pushes the lab door open and with a flourish declared “Honey, I'm home.”

He swoops into the room with the tray as Jean laughs and gets up from her desk to greet him. “Oh my,” she smiles at his silly antics. “what are you doing here?”

“Just thought I'd bring lunch down to the kid so I could see my girl.” 

“That's so sweet. He's just getting getting ready, I think I'll see if Bobby can show him around the school this afternoon.”

“You think that the school is the right fit for this kid?” the few times Scott had seen John since he'd been there the kid had been either sleeping or sort of staring, Scott hadn't seen any evidence yet that the kid could do the work at the school. Plus “Do you think it's safe to have an unrestrained fire mutant here?” 

Jean gave Scott a look the said 'you have room to talk.' Scott holds up a hand in a appeasing gesture. 

“I think this is the only and best place for him to get the training he needs. Anyway he hasn't set any fires since being here. We'll have to get him in the danger room to test his abilities and see what kind of fire manipulation he has before passing any judgment and making any calls.” 

John couldn't hear what was being said across the room but it irritated him. First the guy with the glasses comes in being loud and now he's pretty sure the guy had food that is meant for him but he isn't bringing it over. 'why wouldn't he bring it over? Was he suppose to go and get it? Maybe it wasn't for him.' John ran a number of scenarios in his head but deciding to try and ignore the man and the doctor and focus instead on putting his shoes on.

John always liked to keep the laces tight on his shoes but this pair of sneakers was a bit small for him so he was working on adjusting the laces so the toes didn't pinch and so the left shoe could fit around the ankle splint. 

Scott moved around the curtain divider and presents the lunch tray. “Here you go Sport.” the kid jumps about a foot from where he was seated on the bed tying his shoes. “Whoa, there kiddo. What's got you all jumpy? You excited about seeing the school today?” 

The doctor had told him that was what he was going to get to do after lunch. John doesn't know how he feels about it, he's not sure he'd say he was excited. He's something, but it's a mix of nerves, dread, anticipation, disappointment, maybe hope... it was a lot, too many feelings really to be excited. 

“Sure.” John said to the floor as he finished adjusting his laces.  
“Aaaaaahhhh that didn't sound very excited. Get pumped, it's gonna be great.” Scott said with a big smile as he put the tray down on the rolling table.

John rolls his eyes at Scott's enthusiasm. The guy needed to calm down.

Next thing John knows is the guy is rolling the table over to the bed. John grits his teeth first at the sound of the tray sliding across the table and then at the wheels rolling across the floor. “There will be kids your age and plenty to see and do.” The guy kept talking like John wasn't being tortured. 

Scott got the feeling that the kid just didn't seem to like people. He was sure doing a lot of grimacing and frowning. Scott wondered if it was because of social anxiety. That was a thing that he'd heard of that made people weird and awkward. 

Jean came along Scott's side. “Why don't you get lunch John. I've arranged for Bobby to be here after fifth period, that's in about fifteen minuets.” 

______________

Bobby came down to the med lab excited that Doctor Grey had asked him to show the new boy John around. He was proud that the doctor had thought he would be a good representative for the school. He did know just about everyone, had good grades, and was involved with a bunch of clubs and activities including the school's student council.

Bobby walked into medical and finds Dr. Grey and Mr. Summers talking. “Hello Bobby.” Dr. Grey greets him. “Thank you for your help. I think that John is ready to be out of the infirmary for a while.” The doctor leads him over to John's bedside where he's sitting with his back pack on pulling on the straps.

“John, Bobby is here.”

John gets off the bed and it's the first time Bobby's seen him up.

He's small, thin and a little shorter than Bobby. He definitely looks younger. His brown hair is falling in his face and Bobby things his body language is uncomfortable. Maybe he's not really feeling well yet he does still have the splint on his ankle. 

But if Dr. Grey thinks he's ready who is he to question her. “How are you feeling? Better?” Bobby asks. 

“Yeah.” John nods as he thinks 'lets get this over with.'

Bobby waits to see if there is anything else John is going to say. When he doesn't Bobby tells John to follow him to the elevator.

John follows but before they get far Dr. Grey calls from behind them. “John you don't have to carry your back pack, you will be coming back here after the tour.” 

John shrugs “It's ok.” He dismisses the notion that he should left it. He'd prefer to have his things with him.

Jean doesn't think he should carry it, it's extra weight that will probably serve to just wear him out fast but she understands that it's probably a product of living on the streets for so long. They'd just have to deal with his idiosyncrasies for now.

Bobby made sure to walk slowly to the elevator. John had a little limp but didn't seem to be too bothered by it.

“Most students try not to spend much time in the infirmary, even though Dr. Grey and Dr. Mccoy are nice. It's really no fun to be down here in the basement you know.” Bobby pushed the button to take them up to the school. 

John tensed not knowing what he would fins when the elevator doors opened. His palms started to sweat as images of the room the church locked him in came to mind. 

Bobby watches as John seemed to hold his breath and run his hands up and down the straps on his bag. He seemed super nervous. 

“Everyone is in class right now. We're gonna go check out the first floor first.” The elevator dinged and the doors opened John suck in a breath and followed Bobby. He breathes out in a sigh as he found the hall they walked into quiet and empty. 

“follow me the library is this way.”

John looked around the hall amazed.

The upstairs was completely different than the basement. Everything was dark paneling and fancy woodwork. The only thing John had seen like it were the fancy old houses in Philly that were either museums or owned by really rich people.

He followed along behind as Bobby talked he tuned into what Bobby was saying “and the counsel decided to have her reorganize and make new labels for all the shelves.” 

John mussed the first part of whatever Bobby was saying but he wasn't too concerned, He just nodded. 

“This is the library.” Bobby led John in and John smiled. There were so many books and they were all lined up on shelves. They looked neat and clean and well cared for. John thought it would be fun to go through all the shelves and look at all the titles, see what stories were there and just get lost in the pages. 

“This room's kinda boring, just a bunch of old books and tables. They keeps the computers in the lab across the hall, that's were most of the kids do research and stuff.” 

John reluctantly follows Bobby out of the library he kinda hope he'd get the chance to come back.

Across the hall in the computer lab there are a few round tables with new looking computers on them. The only computers John's old school had were ancient. 

He'd really never spent much time on them. “We have some classes in here and come here to type up papers and do research. There's also a computer club they do some programing and play some computer games, Kitty is president of the club. Come on the classrooms are this way.”

John kept following. It seemed like they move to the new room just as he starts to take in the old one. It's all a lot of information and so much to take in that his tired brain starts having a hard time keeping up. 

\-----------

Bobby is a couple steps ahead of him eagerly moving to the next things as they leave Ms. Monroe's class. She'd invited them in as she'd seen the boys passing by and introduced John to her students.

They had had all kinds of questions for John. He hadn't really been able to string more than two words together and had felt awkward and nervous. Luckily Ms. Monroe had excused them pretty quickly as the class was ending and she had to give the homework assignment.

Now John's exhausted brain tries to cut out all the overwhelming stuff swirling around him. 

Bobby was a couple steps ahead of him and John focused on Bobby's shoulder as he followed him down a corridor of classrooms. He doesn't look around at what he's being shown, he works to follow, only half hears what the other boy is explaining. 

He starts to think that it's so hard just seeing the school that maybe it would be best if he just left. He wouldn't be wasting his time or anyone else's.

Bobby is still talking, John is catching every other word, apparently the kid never stops talking. It might be easier to understand him if they would just stop and talk but they keep moving right along even as they have to navigate through the students who are now changing classes. 

Jubilee was talking animatedly to Kitty as they head down the hall to their next class. So animated in fact she doesn't see Bobby is leading a tour and runs right into the new boy. 

John's eyes were wide but there was so much happening so fast that he misses the girl heading straight for him. Bobby sidesteps her but John and Jubilee collide. 

They both get knocked back a step. 

Jubilee steps back and is caught by Kitty. John hadn't seen her and is stunned when he hit and he steps back hard onto his bad ankle. He hops onto his uninjured ankle taking the weight quickly off his hurt one but the damage is already done. 

He winces as he puts his left foot down again and blinks back tears from the sharp pain that shot up his leg when he feels someone's hands on him. He growls low in his throat and pulls away from the hands not caring who they are attached to. 

“I was trying to say I was sorry jeez.” Jubilee says as the boy glares at her. 

“Jeez, jeez, jeez” He growls at her and twists his hands in the sleeves of his sweatshirt and squeezing to distract from the pain and the people. 

“God, Bobby I think this one's feral.” Jubilee hisses grabbing Kitty's arm and hurrying along. 

Bobby is left standing and stunned in the hallway with John who now has his eye's squeezed shut. 

Bobby isn't sure what's wrong, he looks around for a teacher but no one is in sight. “Hey man you ok?” Bobby asks trying to help. 

John had had enough. He was more than done. He was frustrated and tired and it all boils over. He just wanted out 

“Don't you ever shut up?” He shouts at the other boy. 

Bobby looks shocked at the sudden outburst and doesn't know what to say. John turns and walks away, his ankle protests at the pace but John just needs to be somewhere quiet, empty and away.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds a place to meltdown, Bobby finds Storm and the Professor, Charles talks with John and explains. Warning for internal ableism

John walks quickly down the halls. It's like he's in a tunnel as he intently back tracks his and Bobby's path. 

The lights shinning in from the windows hurt his eyes. Doors to classrooms being closed were a sharp staccato beat against his eardrums. He can feel his heart beat pulse in his throbbing ankle as his book bag made too much noise bouncing while he walked. 

By amazing luck his feet find the library. 

He walks in with his hands twisting in the fabric of his sleeves. 

He doesn't bother to look and see if anyone is in the room. He walks straight back to the corner furthest from the door, between two back book shelfs.

He sits down on the floor and pushes himself into the corner. He put his hood up and his bag by his side then pulls his knees to his chest and hugs them. 

He wraps a hand around the splint on his ankle. The pressure feels good on on is aching ankle. 

John feels like he might cry or scream if he wasn't so drained. He's felt like this before, like all there is left of him is a puddle on the floor.

He is drained. He positively can't smile or attempt to be nice to one more person without his brain seizing up. 

He hadn't seen that girl. 

He would have tried to move if he'd seen her coming but he was trying to listen to Bobby and everything was so much. 

'How could he have seen her?' 

There had been so many people in that moment all around him in the hall. He might have well have been on a busy city street with car horns blaring and tires squealing. 

He knew it was an accident. It had just shock him and then she'd touched him.

That had set his senses burning. Why did she have to touch him? He could still feel the pressure of her hand on his arm. 

He presses his shoulder against the edge of the nearest shelf letting the pressure overpower the unwanted ghost of her touch. 

John rocks back and forth a couple times letting his back hit the wall with a satisfying thud. He stops rocking when suddenly his lighter shifts in his pocket reminding him of its presence.

He takes it from his pocket and the urge to flick it open and shut took him. He sighs relaxing into the ease and familiarity of the repetitive motion.  
\--------------------------------------

Bobby stands in shock at what just happened in the empty hall looking at the new boy leave and turn the corner at the end of the hall. After standing unsure what to do next Bobby figures he better go find someone and let them know what happened. 

He heads the same direction John did but when he turns the corner he doesn't see John instead he finds Ms. Monroe and the Professor outside the library closing the door. 

“Good afternoon Bobby.” The Professor greets him.

Bobby tries to act like everything was fine. “Hi Professor” but he is a still confused by John's out burst. “Hum... have you seen John, I was showing him around but I think he got mad and he went this way.” 

The Professor gives him a knowing look. “Yes, he'll be fine Bobby, don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong.”

“I thought things were going alright and then Jubs ran into him and he got upset. I hope he wasn't hurt. I didn't think they hit that hard.” 

“He just needs a little down time, he got a bit overwhelmed.” The Professor explains as Storm stands by. 

Bobby is bashfully thinking perhaps he'd gone overboard when he was only trying to hit the highlights on the tour. “Oh, I didn't mean to overwhelm him, I was only trying to show him the important stuff.” 

“It wasn't your tour Bobby it was everything,” Charles feels like he should offer an explanation that Bobby might better understand. “he's been alone for quite a while now, today has been a lot for him to take in.”

Bobby supposed that made sense if somebody'd been alone for awhile and not talked to anyone and then a whole bunch of people started talking to them that might make them upset. 

Though Bobby thought he'd just be excited to be talking to people again and he'd want to ask them a bunch of questions and just talk and talk. 

He wondered how long John had been alone. 

The Professor nods hearing loud and clear what Bobby was thinking. “Run along to class Bobby, Thank you for your help.” 

“Hum ok.” Bobby didn't want to go back to class yet but if the Professor thought he should go than he would.

Bobby heads off to class, he looks back but soon he turns the corner and is out of sight. 

“What should we do for St John Professor?” Storm asks once Bobby had headed off. 

“We're going to give him a little time to collect himself while you and I go and get a snack from the kitchen.” 

“Professor, are you sure?” Storm is surprised by Charles's answer, St John seemed to be in distress from what the professor had told her when he asked her to come with him to the library. It seems counter intuitive to her to leave him. 

“It will be alright Ororo St John just needs a little space and I think a granola bar.” They leave the library door closed. 

The students knew if the door was closed the room was being used and not to disturb. 

\----------------

Fifteen minutes later Xavier and Ororo returned to the library “If you would wait here I should like to go and talk to him before he returns to medical.” 

“Of course Professor, I’ll be here if you need anything.” Storm agrees.

The Professor enters the library making just enough noise to alert the young man of his presence. 

He hears John before he finds him. The was an odd noise coming from the back corner of the room in between bookcases. 

Charles finds him sitting on the floor at the end of the aisle with his hood up, his back to the wall and a lighter in his hand that he was flicking the lid of open and closed with a resounding ‘clink’ ‘clink’ ‘clink’

Charles can’t help that at first he was alarmed by the lighter but he pauses before reacting and observes the boy before making a judgment. 

St John isn’t actually lighting it and though the telepath could feel waves of frustration rolling off the young man he doesn’t sense any dangerous intent. The lighter and the action of flicking the lid appears to be actually calming for the boy. 

Charles is not surprised. It makes sense with what Charles has determined. 

The Professor speaks in a soft voice from opposite end of the aisle, purposely giving the boy some space. “St John what you’re feeling is perfectly understandable.”

There was a brief pause and a slight hesitation and then a response. 

“Understandable?” the word was barely audible when John says it but Charles hears it loud and clear and all the pain and confusion it conveyed. 

“What you’re experiencing right now is called a meltdown and it happens when some people get overwhelmed and overstimulated and they can’t cope anymore.” 

The Professor takes a moment to give John a chance to process the information. 

John tries to put the pieces together as his brain feels filled with fire and fog. ‘What people?’ “Mutants?” he asks glaring down at the floor.

“No, St John it’s not because of the X gene.” Charles speaks evenly and watches confusion displace the boy’s frustration as he tries to focus on what he is being told.

“What then?” He asks turning the word over in his head ‘Meltdown’ ‘Meltdown’ ‘Meltdown.’ 

His mind calls up related images. 'melting like a candle with a short wick... melting like dirty snow on a city sidewalk...melting like plastic in an inferno...' These things bounce around in his brain 

‘Why is this happening?...What is it about him that he couldn’t handle a stupid tour through a stupid school? Meltdown...I melt...There must be something wrong with me...’ John's brain does back flips. 

“I can explain and I will explain to the best of my ability.” Charles starts. “But I know you’re overwhelmed right now and I think maybe it should wait…” Charles can tell St John’s brain is going into shutdown as a defense against the inundation to his senses that today had been but John isn’t having it. 

He wants answers.

“Tell me.” He growls in the Professor’s direction, not quite looking at him.

John starts rocking again, the feeling of the wall thudding against his back is comforting. 

Charles stays where he is at the end of the book case. He knows that St John was doing his best to cope and he won’t try to stop the behavior unless it seems like the boy would hurt himself. But if he is going to have a serious talk with St John he really wants it to be from less than six feet away. 

“St John I will tell you but do you think you could come sit at the table with me and maybe have something to eat?” Charles suggests not sure if the boy will agree or not, if he chooses to stay where he is maybe Charles could adjust to that. 

John considers the question as he grips his lighter and let his back hit the wall. He thinks right now he would rather curl up in the corner and go to sleep but he does think that food sounds good. 

He makes a decision and drags himself and his bag up off the floor. The Professor glides ahead of him to the table. John leaves the stacks his fingers brushing the book spines as he goes. 

His ankle hurts and he scowls as he heads straight for the table where the Professor had moved to and where a carton of Apple Juice and a granola bar were set. 

John collapses into the nearest chair and the Professor moves to the end of the table next to him pushing the food towards him. 

John reaches for the juice but his fingers feel clumsy and he can’t get the carton open. He gets frustrated and his eyes start to water. Before he can throw the carton the Professor takes it and opens it for him. 

John takes a careful drink of the juice and notices that his hands feel slightly shaky. He doesn’t care for the relieved feeling he gets when the Professor opens the granola bar wrapper too. 

Charles sits quietly while St John eats some of the granola bar and drinks some of the juice after a little time he sees the boy relax slightly and feels like it is the right time to talk. 

“Have you ever heard of Autism?” Charles asks. 

John has heard the word before it was in regards to a boy at one of the schools he’d gone to, the boy liked to scream is what John remembered. The noise had upset John at the time and he felt slightly uneasy that he’d never figured out why the kid was always screaming. 

“It’s a developmental disorder that’s characterized by difficulty with communication and social interactions, literal thinking, repetitive behaviors and sensory issues.” 

John listens to what the Professor is saying as he chews slowly his fuzzy brain was making everything hard to process. ‘Was that what the screaming boy had had a mental disorder?’

“Developmental disorder.” The Professor corrects John's thought. “and yes he may have. Autism’s fully called Autism Spectrum Disorder. It’s a spectrum because each person with Autism has similar challenges and similar strengths but to varying degrees. That means that one person with Autism might not be able to vocally speak at all while another person with Autism might fluently speak more than one language.” 

John tries to picture that and finds it a little hard to believe. 

“St John, I believe that you are Autistic.” The Professor says calmly. 

John nearly chokes on his mouth full of granola. “Me?” He asks with big eyes that find their way to make contact with the Professor’s. 

“Yes.” Charles responds trying to remain neutral about the conclusion. 

St John stares at him with intense eye contact for a few seconds and then turns away to look at his own hands. 

‘...I have a mental disorder... I've always been different than other kids my age... Am I Autistic, is that why?... Does that mean I'm truly broken and that there is something wrong with me? I certainly feel like there is something wrong with me today... meltdown’ 

John's thoughts weigh on him and Charles tries to explain in his most reassuring tone. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you. It just means that you might have some difficulty with things that others take for granted like being able to socialize without getting tired or understanding other people’s body language intuitively. The thing that you should focus on is understanding what you can do and learning what you need to be able to cope with everything else. I can... we can help you with that here.”

John raises an eyebrow at the man. 

John isn’t sure what to say. 'He was capable enough to make it on the streets by himself... now he needed help to get by at some preppy school?' 

'Maybe the thing with the church people had really done something to him. Maybe he couldn't take care of himself anymore.' 

“St John,” Charles feels the boy’s uncertainty and growing fear. “John, you are a bright and capable young man let us help you reach your full potential in all area's of your life.” 

John rubs his hands over his face, then shook his hands out and flexed them a bit weakly and Charles remembers the shutdown the boy was going into and decides that the rest of the conversation could wait. 

“You don't have to say anything right now, we can talk again tomorrow. Lets get you back to medical.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that wasn't too abrupt I keep thinking I'm moving the story too fast and then I write more and it feels like it's dragging. idk I'm just putting it all out there. 
> 
> I appreciate everyone who has read the story, left kudos, and a special thanks to the reviews you're my heroes. 
> 
> I may have said it before but my plan is for this story to be a couple more chapters and then there will be a sequel with John's time at the school. That's what I'm hoping for!


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is currently 14 years old in the story currently.

“So where did wolf boy run off to?” Jub asks Bobby as he gathers his books and papers at the end of class.

“Hu what?” Bobby knew she was talking about John but how had she heard that he's basically run off?

“Your new friend isn't here did he run off back to the wilderness he was raised in.” Jubilee comments with all of her snark. 

“We're not friends. Dr. Grey asked me to show him around so I did.” Bobby got defensive. 

“They probably hoped some of your obedience would rub off on him.” 

“Very funny Jubilee.” Bobby said snidely. He didn't find her observation very funny. 

“Come on Jubs Bobby had nothing to do with how that John kid reacted.” Kitty moved next to Bobby. 

“Well he should have had him on a leash or something than the wild boy wouldn't have been in the middle of the hallway.”

“I probably should have warned him you and your massive ego would be coming threw.” 

“what's all the commotion?” Peter joins in. 

Kitty filled him in "Bobby was giving the boy Storm and Cyclops brought in a tour of the school earlier and Jubs ran in to him.”

“The wild boy? He didn't try to bite you did he?” Peter thought he was so clever Bobby rolled his eyes. 

“No but he growled at me," Jubilee told the story as if she had encountered a wild animal and lived to tell the tale. "the kid is feral they should probably have him tested for rabies.”

Jubilee and Peter laughed, Kitty chuckled a little. 

Bobby didn't really think it was that funny.

John had been really quiet for most of their time together so far and he had kind of blown up at the end but if what the Professor said was true and the guy was just really overwhelmed by everything he probably didn't need people talking about him behind his back.

“You know I think you kind of hurt him when you ran into him like he was limping worse on his sprained ankle afterwards.”

Jubilee got quieter and thoughtful for a monument. “It was an accident.”

“I know and I think he knows too but apparently he's been on his own for a while and he's not real good at being around all of us.” Bobby tried to explain. 

Jubilee didn't know the new boy's circumstances for being alone but she knew what it was like to be alone. She'd lost her parents and lived on her own for about a month before Mr. Summers and Dr. Grey found her. She hadn't wanted to be super chummy with anyone for a little while. "Is he gonna stay at the school?" 

“I was showing him around so maybe he'd like it here and want to stay.”

Jubilee felt kinda bad for running into him and making him upset. Then she remembered that he hadn't been very nice to Kitty the other day and she didn't feel that bad about it, no one messed with her friend.

“come on Jubs, it's time for our Danger room session.” Peter headed out and Jubilee followed him. 

"See you guys later.”

\----------------  
Storm leads St John back to medical. She was happy to escort him. She was glad he didn't seem as upset as she was afraid he might after talking to Bobby. She imagined the talk the Professor had had with him had calmed him down. She did think John looked a bit tired and pale. 

The professor had asked her to take him back to medical but by way of the Danger room. That's way they were taking the long way.

She couldn't help but wonder why the Professor thought it best to take him back to the med lab the long way.  But if the Professor thought it was what should be done Storm would trust his judgement. 

She tried to talk to John as they went but he seemed very uninterested in having a conversation.  He was definitely preoccupied. 

John follows, the words meltdown and Autism stay with him as they leave the library.   His brain is so focused on holding onto the information he's just been given and the act of putting one foot in front of the other that when he finally looks up he isn't sure where they are.  

He can't tell if he's been through this part of the school or not. It looks similar but different to the dark wood and fancy carpets he's already seen but the elevator doesn't seem to be in the same place.  He is pretty sure the elevator he and Bobby used was back the other way. He tensed a bit about again following someone into an unfamiliar place. 

In the elevator John leans in the back corner with his arms crossed. Storm looks over and smiles at him every once in a while. He'd like to say something to her but he can't think of anything and trying to come up with something right now is too hard. At least the elevator ride is short and the silence doesn't get too awkward. 

When the doors open they are back in the stark and futuristic basement but not in the hallway to the med lab.  In front of them here there is a big door with an x on it. 

“This way.” Storm opens the door to their left.

Inside is a corridor with windows along the hall and doors at the end.  The hallway seems so long too John. He groans inwardly, this place is so big, he is really ready to be done with this tour.  

Storm sees him grimace.  “We don't have much further to go.” 

As they pass down the long hall John sees flashes of light coming from one of the windows that catches his eye. He drifts closer to the window. 

“It's called the Danger room.” Storm explains. 

John looks down at a large room that seems to be moving and changing, there are mutants down in it running and jumping and one looks like he was made of metal. 

“Those are all students with powerful mutations training to use their powers to protect themselves and each other.”  John looks again and thinks maybe he recognizes them from today but he can't really see their faces, not that that would help much, he didn't really pay much attention to faces today. 

As he watches them John wonders what he could do with his fire. 'Could he train like that or would he meltdown?' He thinks bitterly. 

“and over here is the hanger for the X-men's jet.” John reluctantly pulls himself away from the Danger room window to look in the window across the corridor. The space he looks down on is huge.

“Woah.” he reacts. 

Storm nods. “Yes it is impressive.” 

John wonders where all the money for these things came from. 'This all must have cost a fortune.' he thinks as his eyes drift tiredly over the high tech looking jet.

“We use the Jet on missions, our goal is to protect Mutants and keep everyone here safe.” Storm tells him with pride. 

“safe, safe, safe...” John softly formed the sounds, he likes the word, he liked the idea, and he wants the feeling. He wraps his arms around his middle again. 

“Come on medical is this way.” Storm decides they should get moving. John follows looking back over his shoulder at the X-men's facilities. 

'Maybe he could be an X-man someday and protect Mutants.' The thought drifts suddenly into his aching mind and just as fast another thought hits 'they don't take broken Mutants or monsters.'

John shakes his head and bites his lip to try and get rid of both thoughts.

\----------- 

Jean is talking with the Professor when Ororo brings John back after seeing the school.. Jean is concerned as soon as he walks in the door. 

He looks like he's exhausted and not very happy. She thinks he must have over done it, he certainly looks like his ankle is hurting. 

She goes straight into doctor mode. 

She sits him down, gets him some water to drink, checks his breathing and makes sure his temperature is his normal range. Everything seemed ok.

“I'm going to get you some ice for your ankle you can take this now.” She hands him an Advil and he swallows it without water. 

She rolls her eyes and hands him back the glass with more water. “You should prop your ankle up again.” 

John sinks low in the chair next to his bed in the infirmary and lays his head back.

“Why don't you get in bed?” Jean asks not sure what he's doing. 

John hears her and knows she's right but he isn't ready to move yet. “Later.” He says closing his eyes.

Jean decides not to argue with him and leaves him to get ice. 

The Professor sits with Storm. They wait for an update on the her patient. “Maybe I really miscalculated. I thought he was ready. But he seems to be really drained. I know pneumonia can wear a person out but have I missed something? Just seeing the school shouldn't have been quite that rough.” 

“Physically he probably would have been alright had our Miss Lee not run into him.” The Professor explained. 

“Did she really?” Jean asked not really surprised but disappointed. 

“I'm afraid so, she was too engrossed in the day's gossip to pay attention.”  Charles had had difficulty holding her attention in his classes and like St John Charles too had been walked straight into by Jubilee in the halls of the school on more than one occasion. She was a wonderfully social teenager she just was a terror in the hallways. 

“I'm going to have to have another talk with her about being aware of her surroundings.” Jubilee had expressed an interested in being an X-man one day.  That wasn't going to happen if she didn't start paying attention. 

Jean had given John the very visible white splint in hopes that the other students would see it and give him some space. She thought that it would help. 

“Yes well if they can't be bothered to look where they're going it doesn't matter how visible the splint is.” Charles snarked at her thought. 

Jean smiled drily. “I suppose not, but that can't be the whole story...”

“His exhaustion is both physical and mental. Can you sense what his mind is going through, Jean?”

She'd been so busy she hadn't paid much attention to his thoughts. She reaches out now with her telepathic powers. 

She senses what had been a tired but active inquisitive mind and finds it now struggling to hold even a basic thought and reacting defensively to every input. 

“Oh my.” Jean reacts by automatically dimming the lights in the lab. “He's beyond tired.” She'd felt something maybe similar in some of the students around final exams but nothing quite like John is feeling. 

“Is he alright?” Storm asks alarmed but Jean's reaction. 

“He is, just overwhelmed by all the information, people and the unfamiliar setting.  He needs quiet and sleep and he'll recover.” Charles explains as much as he feels he can to them without divulging St John's Autism.  That was something that wasn't his right to tell.

“Do you think we'll have to keep him here in the infirmary longer?” Jean had felt this morning that they should start moving  him up to the dormitory.

“Give him some peace, don't give him too many decisions to make or questions to answer for a bit. That will give his brain time to rest from the overload he'll be fine soon enough.” Charles was confident. 

Jean nods, she would trust the Professor but she had no experience with whatever John was going through so she felt she should be cautious.

After the Professor and Ororo leave Jean returns to John's bedside with the ice and finds him curled up on his side on the bed.  He lay on top of the sheets his hood up and his hands clenched in his sleeves. One of his shoes is off the other one's laces are hopelessly knotted.

She can tell he isn't asleep but not what he was feeling.  When she tentatively reaches out to his mind she finds his emotions are a confusing jumble worse than the knot she is undoing to get his shoe off.    

She props his left foot on a pillow and he adjusts very slightly how he was laying so the ice stays on his ankle. But he doesn't open his eyes or say anything.

“Just relax for now.” she tells him softly before leaving him alone.

Jean keeps a telepathic link open with his mind, she checks it periodically trying to understand what he's going through. It isn't like a migraine there isn't pain like that. 

He seems to have relaxed a bit since the lights had been dimmed but Jean feels like the fire in his brain is persisting.

She can't help but think that maybe she had pushed him too much. Maybe Scott was right when he said he thought there was something off about John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. If you leave a review or a Kudos you are a superstar!


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's decision

That night John's dreams are filled with shoes that pinched or slid of his feet, being hungry enough to get out of the garbage, and Mutant haters. Mutant Haters always one step behind him, chase him, coming for him, a menacing and constant presence. 

When he's awake he doesn't want to think about anything, everything hurt. His lungs felt squeezed, his throat was sore from coughing and his brain was still on fire.

The one thing his brain kept flashing images of was the room with the students using their mutations. 

'They were being trained. They could fight. Could he learn to fight too?' 

If he'd been able to fight maybe the things that seemed to keep happening to him wouldn't happen anymore. he'd be safe from the people who would torment him and torture him.

If he stayed here then he could learn while the X-men protected him. 

'They would protect him right?'

That night John dreamt about fighting back. But he was always too slow, he'd trip and fall, and never see the punch coming.

Five days after John arrived at the school he woke up and seems to feel better. He could focus again and he didn't feel quite so pulled apart. 

Jean notices when she greets him in the morning that his mind is noticeably better, clearer and in less distress than it had been. She lets the Professor know.

'Professor I think that John is ready to make a decision.' 

Charles was glad that their guest was feeling better, Charles had a feeling that the meltdown was over and that St John was out of shut down. This was the the time he'd been waiting for to have their next discussion 'Do you think you can have him up to my office in an hour?'

'Yes.' Jean expected that John could be up and ready. She imagined he was probably more than ready to be out of the infirmary, most students were after a few days. 

An hour later John followed Dr. Grey through the halls of the school. He realized it must be Saturday when he saw that the classrooms were empty but the common areas were full of students. He could see some of them turn and look in his direction. He looked back at them sizing them up. 

He stayed closed to the doctor. They soon turned down a hall that Bobby may have pointed out on his tour but that they hadn't gone down.

Jean knocked on the Professor's office door and he telepathic told them to enter. 

The office was big with large windows. John thought that it looked more like the office for a wealthy business man or an important judge and not a Professor or even a Principal's office.

“Good day John you're looking well.” Charles greeted their young guest enthusiastically. 

“Thanks” John realized he should say after a moment. Charles senses John's apprehension. The boy didn't know what he was here for. 

“Won't you have a seat?” Charles asked and Jean directed John to one of the two large chairs in front of the Professor's desk. 

Jean decided to stand at the corner of the desk and once everyone was settled Charles began. “John, Dr. Grey and I are in agreement that it's time to see what your next move is. If you'd like to stay and become a student here or if you'd rather leave us. What ever your decision, we will support you in any way we can.” 

John sat up awkwardly in the chair. He bit the inside of his cheek and clenched and unclenched his fists. He had known this conversation was coming but it was still stressful. 

He'd been avoiding really thinking about what to do next. He was torn. Part of him wanted to stay, part of him was suspicious and part of him couldn't imagine why they would want him here. 

It was all still 'too much.'

“Before you make your decision.” Charles spoke. “let me explain why the school is here. I've been fighting for Mutant rights for a long time now,”

John raised a questioning eyebrow at the statement and Charles elaborated. “since before you were born, St John. In that time I've found that my place in the fight is to educate and prepare the next generation to continue the quest for Mutant acceptance and equality.”

“Acceptance...” John spoke the word just to feel the rhythm of it. It was a nice dream. 'All people, humans and Mutants, just being ok with everyone's differences. Not trying to change the other just accepting so everyone could get on with it.'

“Yes,” Charles continues. “I hope through the good deeds of the X-men and our graduates of the school that are out as Mutants that their presence will foster a greater tolerance and ultimately acceptance from humans.” Charles knew deep down they had a hard fight for that acceptance but he believed it was the only way they could all live together. 

John remembers the anti Mutant rally he found himself in the middle of. “It's gonna take more than a jet.” he states bluntly. He doesn't know what exactly it would take but a fancy jet would probably just make the Mutant haters angry. 'Had the Professor and the X-men even really seen the awful things humans did to Mutants?'

Jean was having a difficult time following John's train of thought. The Professor did understand what John was thinking and saying. 

“John believe me when I tell you that there is not a soul at this school that hasn't been affected in some way by those who hate Mutants. I myself and the X-men have all seen it in person as I gather you have.”

Charles watched as John's lips purse and his eyes get big. Charles senses that the boy is about to get anxious. 

Jean remembered the scars on John and wondered who had hurt him. 

Charles spoke evenly. “John, we work hard to keep people who don't accept Mutants far away from our school so our students have a safe environment to learn in.” 

John's big eyes stared hard at the book self behind the Professor. Thoughts flew through his mind as if the past two days of distress hadn't happened. 

'If he stayed here could he be safe for a while? Could he have time to recover and get his head clear again? He had seen now that they seemed to have enough money that taking one more student shouldn't be too much trouble. I wouldn't have to worry. Maybe....maybe...' 

for John the decision to stay comes down to his safety. 

“I'd like to stay.” he says it as if he is resigned to the decision. He's not as enthusiastic as some students but it's all they need to hear. 

There is a tension released from the room and Charles and Jean both relax. Had John decided he wanted to go, they would have tried to convince him to stay, but if he'd have insisted they would have let him go. They had no desire to see a minor go back to the streets so they were pleased he'd made the decision easily. 

“Alright, very good, St John we'd like you to stay if you want to.” Charles smiled at the boy who didn't share it. “Is it alright if I let Ms. Monroe and Mr. Summers know that you'll be staying and have them join our meeting?”

“Hum...sure I guess.” John really didn't want to make this a big deal, he just kinda wanted to blend in and not have anyone make a fuss.

Storm and Scott get the message from the professor and join the meeting promptly. 

Storm comes into the office with a big smile and John is a bit overwhelmed by her excitement. Scott had really expected the kid to choose to leave so he was surprised to get the call but if the Professor thought it was a good idea he stay then Scott wouldn't argue. 

Charles gets to business once more. “St John we will take you on as a student and let you stay here as long as you follow the rules of the school.”

Jean takes a book off the shelf behind the Professor and hands it too him.

“This is the school handbook. You'll get a copy and you are expected to read and sign the honor code. We do hold students to the code, in fact the code is over seen by peers we have a student counsel who determines what is done to those who break the rules.” 

'The students decide things?' John had never heard of anything like that before. He must have made a face because the next thing he knew the Doctor was trying to reassure him. “We'll get you a copy of the handbook, it's pretty straight forward don't worry about it. We're really glad to have you John.” 

Jean smiled at their newest student and told Scott to shut up with her mind as he projected some thoughts to the contrary. 

Scott sat on the corner of the Professor's desk. “We can get you in the Danger room to test your abilities maybe Tuesday or Wednesday next week after you've had a chance to settle in.” 

“Till then St John,” The Professor spoke seriously “we ask that you not use your abilities or if you feel that your Mutation might act up that you let us know. We understand that accidents happen but as your mutation is fire based we'd like to take every precaution that we can for safety’s sake.”

John nods but is slightly irritated, he thinks he's refrained pretty well so far. He hadn't set anything on fire since he'd been here. He'd actually really love to have his lighter out right now. He settled for setting his forearm over where in lay in his pocket. 

Charles continued on with the serious topics that needed to be addressed. “St John we know you are a runaway. We've had many runaways come to stay at the school over the years. We can arrange for you to stay no matter what you've run from. We would like to know your legal name and where your guardians are.”

John sits tight lipped and rubs his sweating palms on his pants. The adults interpret his nerves as the common fear that runaways seemed to have of the school contacting their parents. 

“We won't let anyone take you if you don't want to go back to them.” Jean tries to reassure him. 

Scott jumps in. “Lots of young Mutants run away from home, maybe your parents didn't like that you were a Mutant, maybe it wasn't a safe place, it's not anything we haven't seen before, we've worked with lots of runaways and can be very persuasive.” Storm and Jean share a look, “having telepaths definitely helps when dealing with difficult parents.” Scott smirked in Jean's direction. 

John looks from one to the other and wonders why they were talking about difficult parents, that had nothing to do with him. He knew he needed to tell them about himself if he was going to stay. He considers lying about his identity for some protection but dismisses the idea, with telepaths they'll know if he isn't telling the truth. 

He sighs and feels like he is about to give a bit too much of himself away. 

“I ...I don't think you'll need to persuade anyone, there's no one that will be a problem, I never knew my parents.” John swallowed and continued. “My name is St John Allerdyce, I'm a ward of the state of Pennsylvania and I doubt they want me back. They were getting ready to send me way to get tested for the X gene so I ran away.” 

Scott didn't believe the story, the kid's body language wasn't helping, he was sitting with his arms crossed in front of him, looking unconformable and not looking anyone of them in the eyes. Scott looked to the Jean who nodded to him. 

Jean and Xavier knew John was telling the truth. 

'Of course the odd kid would be some sort of Oliver Twist orphan,' Scott thought, he could see Jean and Ororo's hearts squeeze, Scott rolled his shielded eyes. 'of course they would melt over a sob story like that.' 

“Very well, we can take care of custody with the state, that won't be a problem.” Charles extended his hand to John. John pulled his hand out of his long sleeve and shook the Professor's. “Welcome to Xavier's young Mr. Allerdyce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed this story. I've really enjoyed writing it and have worked pretty hard on it. This story will continue here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4610217 with 'Not an Angel' mostly because I know I get intimidated by stories that are over 30 chapters. Thank you to all the commenters!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading hope you enjoyed, kudos are so appreciated and constructive criticism is welcome.


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